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THE POCKET BIBLE 


THE FULL SERIES OF 

©tje ilHgatpmfl of ttie |lpoglp 

s: OR :: 

History of a Proletarian Family 
Across the Ages 


By EUGENE SUE 


Consisting of the Following Works: 

THE GOLD (SICKLE; or, Eena the Virgin of the Isle of Sen. 
THE BRASS BELL; or, The Chariot of Death. 

THE IRON COLLAR; or, Faustina and Syomara. 

THE SILVER CROSS; or, The Carpenter of Nazareth. 

THE CASQUE’S LARK; or, Victoria, the Mother of the Camps. 
THE PONIARD’.S HILT; or, Kwradeucq and Ronan. 

THE BRANDING NEEDLE; or, The Monastery of Charollcs. 
THE ABBATIAL CROSIER; or, Bonaik and Septimine. 

THE CARLOVINGIAN COINS; or. The Daughters of 
Charlemagne. 

THE IRON ARROW-HEAD; or. The Buckler Maiden. 

THE INFANT’S SKULL; or, The End of the World. 

THE PILGRIM’S SHELL; or, Fergan the Quarry man. 

THE IRON PINCERS; or, Mylio and Karvel. 

THE IRON TREVET; or Jocelyp, the Champion. 

THE EXECUTIONER’S KNIFE; or, Joan of Arc. 

THE POCKET BIBLE; or, Christian the Printer. 

THE BLACKSMITH’S HAMMER; or, The Peasant Code. 
THE SWORD OF HONOR; or, The Foundation of the French 
Republic 

THE GALLEY SLAVE’S RING; or, The Family Lebrenn. 


Published Uniform With This Volume By 

THE NEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO. 

28 CITY HALL PLACE NEW YORK CITY 





















The Pocket Bible 

• • • • K • • • • 

• • • • vy i\ • • • • 

CHRISTIAN THE PRINTER 


A Tale of the Sixteenth Century 
By EUGENE SUE 


In Two Volumes 
Vol. I. 

* * 


TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCH 

By DANIEL DELEON 

NEW YORK LABOR NEWS COMPANY, 1910 

























.V 


Copy fight, 1910, by thV 
NEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO. 



©CU268339 











} 


h» s •, : 

INDEX 

K 

— 

PART I. THE SOCIETY OF JESUS. 


INTRODUCTION . 1 

CHAPTER. 

X 

I. THE THEET . 7 

II. THE NEOPHYTE . 18 

III. THE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 33 

IV. THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS”. 53 

V. MONSIEUR JOHN . 78 

% 

VI. THE FRANC-TAUPIN . 87 

VII. BROTHER ST. ERNEST-MARTYR.112 

VIII. IN THE GARRET .128 

IX. THE PENITENT .133 

X. LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES .138 

XI. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER .166 

XII. HERVE’S DEMENTIA .176 

XIII. CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL.193 

XIV. HENA’S DIARY .231 

XV. DIARY OF ST. ERNEST-MARTYR.244 

XVI. THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE.252 

• XVII. THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE.266 

XVIII. FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE.286 

XIX. ON THE ROAD TO PARIS.304 

XX. JANUARY 21, 1535.323 
























/ 
















TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. 


The epoch eovered by this, the 16th story of Eugene 
Sue’s dramatic historic series, entitled The Mysteries of 
the People; or, History of a Proletarian Family Across 
the Ages, extends over the turbulent yet formative era 
known in history as the Religious Reformation. 

The social system that had been developing since the 
epoch initiated by the 8th story of the series, The Abbatial 
Crosier; or, Bonaik and Septimine, that is, the feudal sys¬ 
tem, and which is depicted in full bloom in the 14th story 
of the series, The Iron Trevet; or, Jocelyn the Champion, 
had been since suffering general collapse with the ap¬ 
proach of the bourgeois, or capitalist system, which found 
its first open, or political, expression in the Reformation, 
and which was urged into life by Luther, Calvin and other 
leading adversaries of the Roman Catholic regime. 

The history of the Reformation, or rather, of the con¬ 
flict between the clerical polity which symbolized the old 
and the clerical polity 'which symbolized the new social 
order, is compressed within the covers of this one story 
with the skill at once of the historian, the scientist, the 
philosopher and the novelist. The various springs from 
which human action flows, the various types which human 
crises produce, the virtues and the vices which great his- 


ii TEE POCKET BIBLE. 

toric conflicts heat into activity—all these features of social 
motion, never jointly reproduced in works of history, are 
here drawn in vivid colors and present a historic canvas 
that is prime in the domain of literature. 

In view of the exceptional importance of some of the 
footnotes in which Sue refers the reader to the pages of 
original authorities in French cited by him, the pages of 
an accessible American edition are in those cases either 
substituted or added in this translation. 

Daniel De Leon. 


New York, February, 1910. 


PART I 


THE SOCIETY OF JESUS 


I 





INTRODUCTION. 


What great changes, sons of Joel, have taken place in 
Paris since the time when our ancestor Eidiol the Parisian 
skipper lived in this city, in the Ninth Century, at the time 
of the Northman invasion! How many changes even since 
1350, when our ancestor Jocelyn the Champion fell wound¬ 
ed beside Etienne Marcel, who was assassinated by John 
Maillart and the royalists! 

The population of this great city now, in the year 1534, 
runs up to about four hundred thousand souls; daily new 
houses rise in the suburbs and outside the city walls, whose 
boundaries have become too narrow, although they enclose 
from twelve to thirteen thousand houses. But now, the 
same as in the past, Paris remains divided into four towns, 
so to speak, by two thoroughfares that cross each other at 
right angles. St. Martin, prolonged by St. James Street, 
traverses the city from east to west; St. Honore, prolonged 
by St. Antoine Street, traverses it from north to south. The 
Louvre is the quarter of the people of the court; the quar¬ 
ter of the Bastille, of the Arsenal, filled with arms, and of 
the Temple is that of the people whose profession is war; 
the quarter of the University is that of the men of letters; 
finally the quarter of Notre Dame and St. Germain, where 
lie the convents of the Cordeliers, of the Chartreux, of the 


2 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


Jacobins, of the Augustinians, of the Dominicans and of 
many other hives of monks and nuns besides the monas¬ 
teries that are scattered throughout the city, is that of the 
men of the Church. The merchants, as a general thing, 
occupy the center of Paris towards St. Denis Street; the 
manufacturers are found in the eastern, the shabbiest of 
all the quarters, where, for one liard, workingmen can find 
lodging for the night. The larger number of the bour¬ 
geois houses as well as all the convents are now built of 
stone, and are no longer frame structures as they formerly 
were. These modern buildings, topped with slate or lead 
roofs and ornamented with sculptured facades, become 
every day more numerous. 

Likewise with crimes of all natures; their increase is 
beyond measure. With nightfall, murderers and bandits 
take possession of the streets. Their numbers rise to 
twenty-five or thirty thousand, all organized into bands— 
the Guilleris , the Plumets, the Rougets, the Tire-Laines, 1 * * * 
the latter of whom rob bourgeois, who are inhibited from 
carrying arms. The Tire-Soies; 2 a more daring band, fall 
upon the noblemen, who are always armed. The Barbets 
disguise themselves as artisans of several trades, or as 
monks of several Orders and introduce themselves into the 
houses for the purpose of stealing. Besides these there 
are the bands of Mattes or Fins-Mattois, skilled cut-purses 
and pick-pockets; and finally the Mauvais-Gargons* the 
most redoubtable of all, who publicly, for a price chaffered 

1 Tire-Lalnes means literally 8 Mauvais-Gargons ; literally Bad 

Wool-Pluckers. Boys. 

a Tire-Soies: literally Silk-Pluck 

ers. 



INTRODUCTION. 


over and finally agreed upon, offer their daggers to whom¬ 
soever wishes to rid himself of an enemy. 

Nor is this the worst aspect presented by the crowded 
city. Paris runs over with lost women and courtesans of 
all degrees. Never yet did immorality, to which the royal 
court, the Church and the seigniory set so shocking a pace, 
cause such widespread ravages. A repulsive disease im¬ 
ported from America by the Spaniards since the conquests 
of Christopher Columbus poisons life at its very source. 

Finally, Paris presents a nameless mixture of fanati¬ 
cism, debauchery and ferocity. Above the doors of houses 
of ill fame, images of male and female saints are seen in 
their niches, before which thieves, murderers and courte¬ 
sans uncover and bend the knee as they hurry by, bent on 
their respective pursuits. The Tire-Laines, the Guilleris 
and other brigands burn candles at the altars of the Virgin 
or pay for masses for the success of their crimes in con¬ 
templation. Superstition spreads in even step with crimi¬ 
nality. Pious physicians are cited who regularly take the 
weekly communion, and who, bought by impatient heirs, 
poison with their pharmaceutical concoctions the rich pa¬ 
tients, whose decease is too slow in arriving. The most 
horrid felonies have lost their dreadfulness, especially since 
the papal indulgences, sold for cash, insure absolution and 
impunity to the criminals. The virtues of the hearth and 
all good morals seem to have fled to the bosom of those 
families only who have discarded the paganism of Rome 
and, although styled heretics, practice the simplicity of 
evangelical morality. One of these families is that of 


4 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


Christian the Printer, the great-grandchild of Jocelyn the 
Champion’s son, who, due to the rapid progress made by 
the printing press, w T hich rendered manuscript books use¬ 
less and unnecessarily expensive, found it ever more diffi¬ 
cult to earn his living at his trade of copyist and illumi¬ 
nator of manuscripts. 

Accordingly, after the death of his father, who was the 
son of Jocelyn the Champion and continued to live at 
Vaucouleurs after witnessing the martyrdom of Joan of 
Arc, Allan Lebrenn moved to Paris, induced thereto by 
John Saurin, a master-printer of this city who, having 
during a short sojourn at Vaucouleurs been struck by the 
young man’s intelligence at his trade, promised to aid him 
in finding work in the large city. He accepted the offer 
an,d speedily succeeded in his new field. He married in 
1465, died in 1474, and left a son, Melar Lebrenn, who 
was born in 1466 and was the father of Christian the 
Printer. 

Melar Lebrenn followed his father’s occupation, and 
worked long after his father’s death in John Saurin’s es¬ 
tablishment, where his services were highly appreciated. 
But after John Saurin’s death, Melar Lebrenn, who had 
in the meantime married and had three children, Chris¬ 
tian and two daughters, was dismissed by Saurin’s suc¬ 
cessor, a man named Noel Compaign. Compaign was a 
religious bigot. He was incensed at what he termed Melar 
Lebrenn’s unbelief, hounded him with odious calumnies, 
and spoke of him to the other members of the guild as dis¬ 
honest and otherwise unfit. Melar Lebrenn soon felt the 


INTRODUCTION . 


5 


effect of these calumnies; his trade went down; his savings 
were consumed; his family was breadless; he had nothing 
left to him but the legends and relics of his family, that 
were handed down from generation to generation. 

Under these circumstances Melar Lebrenn made one 
more and desperate effort to rise to his feet. He knew by 
reputation Henry Estienne, the most celebrated printer of 
the last century. Estienne’s goodness of heart as well as 
his knowledge were matters of common repute. Melar 
Lebrenn decided to turn to him, but he found Estienne 
strongly prejudiced against him through the calumnies 
that Compaign had circulated. But Melar Lebrenn was 
not yet discouraged. He explained to Estienne circum¬ 
stantially the reason of Compaign’s hatred, and offered 
Estienne to serve him on trial. The offer was accepted, 
and Melar Lebrenn soon acquitted himself so well both 
as a typesetter and a reader of proof, that Master Henry 
Estienne, judging from the falseness of the accusations 
concerning Melar Lebrenn’s skill at his trade, concluded 
he was equally wronged in his private character. From 
that time on, Estienne took a deep interest in Melar and 
was soon singularly attached to him, as much by reason 
of his skill, as for the probity of his character and the 
kindness of his heart. 

The two daughters of Melar Lebrenn were carried away 
by the pest that swept over Paris in 1512; his wife sur¬ 
vived them only a short time; and Melar himself died in 
1519. His only surviving child, Christian, married Brid¬ 
get Ardouin, an embroiderer in gold and silver thread. 


6 


TEE POCKET BIBLE . 


Christian entered the printing establishment of Henry 
Estienne as an apprentice at his twelfth year. After the 
death of the venerated Henry Estienne, Christian remained 
under the employ of Eobert Estienne, his father’s heir in 
virtue and his superior in scientific acquirements. The 
editions that Eobert E'stienne issued of the old Greek, He¬ 
brew or Latin authors are the admiration of the learned 
by the correctness of the text, the beauty of the type, and 
the perfection of the printing. Among other things he 
published a pocket edition of the New Testament, trans¬ 
lated into French, a veritable masterpiece of typography. 
The bonds that united Master Eobert Estienne and his 
workman Christian Lebrenn became of the closest. 

Three children were born of the marriage of Christian 
Lebrenn with Bridget Ardouin—a boy, born in 1516, and 
at the commencement of this history eighteen years of 
age; a girl in 1518, and a boy in 1520. The latter is 
named Odelin; he is an apprentice in the establishment 
of Master Eaimbaud, one of the most celebrated armorers 
of Paris. The eldest son is named Herve, in memory of 
his mother’s father, and he follows his father Christian’s 
profession of printer. The girl is named Hena in remem¬ 
brance of the Virgin of the Isle of Sen. 


CHAPTER I. 


THE THEFT. 

It was one evening towards the middle of the month of 
August of 1534. Christian Lebrenn occupied a modest 
house situated at about the center of the Exchange Bridge. 
Almost all the other bridges thrown over the two arms of 
the Seine are, like this one, lined with houses and con¬ 
stitute a street under which the river flows. The kitchen, 
where the meals were taken,»was on the first floor, even 
with the street; behind this room, the door and window of 
which opened upon the public thoroughfare, was a smaller 
one, used for bed chamber by Herve, Christian’s eldest 
son, and the younger brother Odelin, the apprentice at 
Master Raimbaud’s. At the time, however, when this nar¬ 
rative opens, Odelin was absent from Paris, traveling in 
Italy with his master, who had gone to Milan in order to 
study the process by which the Milanese armors, as cele¬ 
brated as those of Toledo, were manufactured. The upper 
floor of Christian’s house consisted of two rooms. One of 
these he occupied himself with his wife Bridget; his daugh¬ 
ter Hena occupied the other. Finally, a garret that served 
as storeroom for winter provisions, topped the house and 
had a window that opened upon the river. 


8 


TEE POCKET BIBLE . 


On this evening Christian was in an animated conver¬ 
sation with his wife. It was late. The children were both 
asleep. A lamp lighted the room of the husband and wife. 
Near the window, with its small lozenge-shaped panes 
fastened between ribs of lead, lay the embroideries at which 
Bridget and Hena had been at work. In the rear of this 
rather spacious chamber stood the conjugal bed, surmount¬ 
ed with its canopy and enclosed by its curtains of orange 
serge. A little further away was a little book-case con¬ 
taining in neat rows the volumes in the printing of which 
Christian and his father contributed at the printing es¬ 
tablishment of Masters Henry and Robert Estienne. In 
the same case Christian kept under lock his family legends 
and relics, together with whatever else that he attached 
special value to. Above the case an old cross-bow and 
battle axe hung from the wall. It was always well to have 
some arms in the house in order to repel the attacks of 
bandits who had of late grown increasingly bold. Two 
flat leather covered coffers for clothes and a few stools 
completed the humble furnishings of the room. Chris¬ 
tian seemed greatly troubled in mind. Bridget, looking 
no less concerned than her husband, dropped the work that 
she expected to finish by lamp-light, and stepped towards 
her husband. With his eyes fixed upon the ground, his 
elbows upon his knees and his head in his hands, the latter 
observed: 

“There can be no doubt. The person who stole the 
money, here, in this room, out of that case, and without 
breaking the lock, must be familiar with our house.” 


THE THEFT. 


9 


“I can assure you, Christian, since yesterday when we 
discovered the theft, I have been in a continuous fever.” 

“None but we and our children enter this room.” 

“No, excepting our customers or their employees. But 
as I am well aware that the Barbets are bold and wily 
enough to put on the disguise of honest merchants, when¬ 
ever occasion demands it, in order to gain access to a house 
and steal, and that they might play that trick upon me 
under the pretext of bringing an order for some embroid¬ 
ery, neither Hena nor I ever leave the room when a stranger 
is with us.” 

“I am ransacking my mind for the intimate acquaint¬ 
ance who could have entered the room,” the printer pro¬ 
ceeded as if communing with himself with painful anx¬ 
iety. “Occasionally, Lefevre spends an evening with us; I 
have come up into this room with him several times when 
he requested me to read some of our family legends to 
him.” 

“But, my friend, it is a long time since we have seen 
Lefevre; you yourself were wondering the other day 
w'hat may have become of him; moreover, it is out of 
all question to suspect your friend, a man of austere mor¬ 
als, always wrapt in science.” 

“God prevent my suspecting him! I was only going 
over the extremely small number of persons who visit ua 
familiarly.” 

“Then there is my brother. The fellow is, true enough, 
a soldier of adventure; he has his faults, grave faults, 
but—” 



10 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Ah, Bridget, Josephin has for you and our children 
so tender a love, so touching—I hold him capable of doing 
almost anything in a hostile country, as is customary with 
people of his vocation; but he, who almost every day sits 
at our hearth—he, commit a theft in our house? Such a 
thought never crossed my mind—and never will!” 

“Oh, I thank you for these words! I thank you!” 

“And did you suppose that I suspected your brother? 
No! A thousand times, no!” 

“What shall I say? The vagabond life that he has led 
since his early youth—the habits of violence and rapine 
with which the ‘Franc-Taupins/ the ‘Pendards/ and the 
other soldiers of adventure who are my brother’s habitual 
companions are so justly reproached, might have caused 
suspicion to rise in some prejudiced mind, and—but my 
God—Christian—what ails you, tell me what ails you?” 
cried Bridget, seeing her husband hide his face between his 
hands in utter despair, and then suddenly rise and pace 
the room, as if pursued by a thought from which he sought 
to flee. “My friend,” insisted Bridget, “what sudden 
thought has struck and afflicts you ? There are tears in 
your eyes. Your face is strangely distorted. Answer me, 
I pray you!” 

“I take heaven to witness,” cried the artisan, raising his 
hands heavenward with a face that betrayed the tortures 
of his heart, “the loss of the twenty gold crowns, that we 
gathered so laboriously, is a serious matter to me; it was 


THE THEFT. 


11 


/ 

our daughter’s dower; but that loss is as nothing beside- 

“Beside what ? Let me know !” 

“No. Oh, no! It is too horrible!” 

“Christian, what have you in mind?” 

“Leave me ! Leave me!” but immediately regretting the 
involuntary rudeness, the artisan took Bridget’s hands in 
his own, and said to her in a deeply moved voice: “Ex¬ 
cuse me, poor, dear wife. You see, when I think of this 
affair I lose my head. When, at the printing shop, to-day, 
the horrible suspicion flashed through my mind, I feared 
it would drive me crazy! I struggled against it all I 
could—but a minute ago, as I was running over with you 
our intimate acquaintances who might be thought guilty 
of the theft, the frightful suspicion recurred to me. That 
is the reason of my distress.” 

Christian threw himself down again upon his stool; 
again a shudder ran over his frame and he hid his face 
between his hands. 

“Tell me, my friend, w r hat is the suspicion that assails 
you and that you so violently resist? Impart it to me, I 
pray you.” 

After a painful struggle with himself that lasted several 
minutes, the artisan murmured in a faint voice as if every 
word burnt his lips: 

“Like myself, you noticed, recently—since about the 
time of Odelin’s departure for Milan—you noticed, like 
myself, that a marked change lias been coming over the 
nature and the habits of Herve.” 

“Our son!” cried Bridget stupefied; and she added: 


12 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Mercy! Would you suspect him of so infamous an act?” 

Christian remained steeped in a gloomy silence that 
Bridget, distracted with grief as she was, did not at first 
venture to disturb. Presently she proceeded: 

“Impossible! Herve, whom we brought up in the same 
principles as his brother—Herve, who never was away 
from us—” 

“Bridget, I told you, the suspicion is horrible; I have 
struggled against it with all my might,” and the artisan’s 
voice was smothered with sobs. “And yet, if after all it 
should be so! If our son is indeed the guilty onel” 

“My friend, your suspicion bereaves me of my senses. 
You love Herve so dearly, and your judgment is always so 
sound, your mind so penetrating, that I can not conceive 
how so unjustifiable a thought could take possession of 
you. Our son is continuously at the printing shop, at your 
side, as Hena is at mine; better than anyone else should 
you know your son’s heart.” Bridget remained silent for 
a moment and then proceeded while scalding tears rolled 
down her cheeks: “Oh, I feel it, even if your suspicion 
is never justified, it will embitter the rest of my life! Oh, 
to think our son capable of stealing!” 

“And for that very reason there is no one else in the 
world but you, and you alone, to whom I confide the hor¬ 
rid suspicion. Oh, Bridget, it is more than a suspicion. 
Let us not exaggerate matters; let us not be unnecessarily 
cast down; let us calmly look into the affair; let us care¬ 
fully refresh our memories; we may arrive—may God hear 
my words—at the conclusion that the suspicion is un- 


THE THEFT. 


13 


founded. As I was just saying, a great change has lately 
come over Herve. You noticed the singular manifesta¬ 
tions as well as I.” 

“Yes, recently, he, who formerly was so cheerful, so 
open, so affectionate, has of late been cold and somber, 
dreamy and silent. He has grown pale and thin; he is 
quickly irritated. Shortly before the departure of our 
little Odelin, he often and without cause scolded the poor 
hoy, for whom he always before had only kind words. And 
often since then, have I had occasion to reproach Herve 
for his rudeness, I should almost say harshness towards his 
sister, whom he dearly loved. He now seems to avoid her 
company. At times I simply cannot understand his con¬ 
duct towards her. Why, only yesterday, when you and he 
came home from the printing shop, after embracing you, 
as is her custom, Hena offered her forehead to her brother 
—but he rudely pushed her aside.” 

“I did not notice that; but I did notice the growing 
indifference of Herve towards his sister. What mystery 
can lie below that?” 

“And yet, my friend, we love all our children equally. 
Herve might feel hurt if we showed any preference for 
Hena or Odelin. But we do not. We are equally kind to 
all the three.” 

“Yes, indeed. We shall have to look elsewhere for the 
cause of the change that afflicts us. Can it be that, without 
our knowledge, he keeps bad company ? There is one cir¬ 
cumstance in this affair that has struck me. Paternal love 
does not blind me. I see great aptitudes in Herve. Not 





14 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


to mention the gift of an easy flowing eloquence that is ex¬ 
ceptional at his age, he has become an excellent Latinist. 
Owing to his aptitude in that direction he has more than 
once been chosen to gather precious manuscripts at the 
houses of some men of letters, who are the friends of Mas¬ 
ter Eobert Estienne. Usually our son attended to such 
work with accuracy and despatch. Of late, however, his 
absence from the shop on such errands is often long, un¬ 
necessarily so and also frequent, and he does not attend 
properly to his errands, sometimes does not attend to them 
at all. Master Eobert Estienne has complained to me in 
a friendly way, saying that Herve should be watched, that 
he was drawing near his eighteenth year and might con¬ 
tract acquaintances that would be cause of trouble for us 
later.” 

“On that very subject, my friend, only a few days ago 
I w r as reproaching Herve for his estrangement from the 
friends of his boyhood, all of whom are good and honest 
lads. He flees their company and spurns their cordial ad¬ 
vances. The only person with whom he seems to be inti¬ 
mate is Fra Girard, the Franciscan friar and son of our 
neighbor the mercer.” 

“I would prefer some other company for our son, but 
not that I accuse Fra Girard of being, like so many other 
monks, an improper person to associate with. He is said 
to be of austere morals, but being older than Herve, he has, 
I am afraid, gained considerable influence over him, and 
rendered him savagely intolerant. Several of the artisans 
at the shop of Master Estienne are, like he himself, par- 


THE THEFT. 


15 


tisans of the religious reform; some are openly so, despite 
the danger that their outspokenness entails^ others more 
privately. More than once did our son raise his voice with 
excessive violence against the new ideas which he calls 
heresies. And yet he knows that you and I share them.” 

“Alas! my friend, what woman, what mother would not 
share the reform ideas, seeing that they reject auricular 
confession? Did we not find ourselves compelled to stop 
our daughter from attending the confessional on account 
of the shameful questions that a priest dared to put to her 
and which, in the candor of her soul, she repeated to us? 
But to return to Herve, even though, in some respects, I 
dislike his intimacy with Fra Girard and fear it may tend 
to render him intolerant, the influence of the monk, the 
austerity of whose morals is commented upon, must have 
had the effect of keeping far from our son’s mind an act 
so ugly that we can not mention it without shedding tears 
of sorrow,” added Bridget wiping her moist eyes; “Herve’s 
piety, my friend, becomes daily more fervent; as you know, 
the unhappy boy imposes upon himself, at the risk of im¬ 
pairing his health, ever longer fasts. Did I not discover 
from the traces of blood upon his shirt that on certain 
days he carries close to his skin a belt that is furnished 
within with sharp iron pricks? That is not the conduct 
of a hypocrite! He sought to conceal from all eyes the 
secret macerations that he inflicts upon himself in peni¬ 
tence. It was only accidentally that I discovered the fact. 
I deplore such fanaticism; but his fanaticism may also be 
a safeguard. The very exaggeration to which Herve car- 


16 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


ries his religious principles must strengthen him against 
temptation. Heaven be blessed! You were right, Chris¬ 
tian ; by closely considering the circumstances, we can 
come at no other conclusion than that such suspicions are 
unfounded. Our son is innocent, do you not think so, 
Christian ?” 

Gloomy and pensive the artisan listened to his wife 
without interrupting her. He replied: 

“No, dear wife; fanaticism is no safeguard against evil. 
Alas! differently from you, the more I consider the facts 
that you adduce—I hardly dare say so to you—my sus¬ 
picions, so far from being removed, grow in weight. Yes, 
I believe our son guilty.” 

“Great God ! What a horrible thought!” 

“I believe our son is sincere in his devout practices, 
however exaggerated these may be. But I also know that 
one of the most frightful consequences of fanaticism is 
that it clouds and perverts the most elemental principles 
of right and wrong, of justice and injustice, with those 
whom it dominates. Religious faith substitutes morality.” 

“But theft, seeing that I must mention the word—theft 
—how can fanaticism excuse that? You must be mistaken 
upon that subject!” 

“Listen, Bridget. A few days ago—and it was the rec¬ 
ollection of the circumstance that first awoke my sus¬ 
picions—a few days ago one of our fellow workmen at the 
shop expressed himself with indignation at the traffic of 
indulgences that has recently been carried on in Paris, 
and he said emphatically that besides the immorality of 




THE THEFT . 


17 


the trade that was being practiced in the Pope’s name, the 
extortion of money by such means from ignorance and 
from popular credulity was nothing short of a fraud prac¬ 
ticed upon the people. And do you know the answer that 
our son made ? ‘That is a lie! It is impious! The money 
that is devoted to a pious deed, even if it be the fruit of 
a theft, of a murder, is purified and sanctified from the 
moment that it is employed to the greater glory of the 
Lord!’ ” 

Bridget grew pale, and murmured in a voice smothered 
by sobs: 

“Oh! now I fear—I also fear! May God have mercy 
upon us!” 

“Do you now understand how, if our son is indeed guilty 
of the shameful act which we hesitate to impugn to him, 
in his blind fanaticism the unhappy boy will have believed 
that he was doing a meritorious act if he employed the 
money in some such work of devotion as ordering the say¬ 
ing of masses?” 


CHAPTER, II. 


THE NEOPHYTE. 

As Christian was saying these words, he heard, first at 
a distance and soon after on the Exchange Bridge itself, 
the loud clang of several bells and the sharp twirl of metal 
rattles, intercepted with a lugubrious psalmody, at the 
close of which the noise of bells and rattles became deafen¬ 
ing. No less astonished than his wife, the artisan rose 
from his seat, opened the window, and saw a long proces¬ 
sion filing before the house. At its head marched a de¬ 
tachment of archers carrying their cross-bow T s on their left 
shoulders and long thick wax candles in their right hands; 
behind them came several Dominican monks in their white 
robes and black cowls, ringing the bells and turning the 
rattles; after these followed a cart drawn by two horses 
caparisoned in black and silver network. The four sides 
of the cart were of considerable height and constituted a 
huge quadrangular transparency, lighted from within, and 
representing the figures of men and women of all ages, 
together with children, plunged up to the waist in a sea 
of flames, and, amid desperate contortions, raising their 
suppliant arms towards an image of God seated on a throne. 
On each of the four sides of the wagon and above the 


THE NEOPHYTE. 


19 


painting the following inscription was to be seen, printed 
in thick black and red letters: 

Pray 

For the Souls in Purgatory 
To-morrow 
at 

The Church of the Convent of St. Dominic 
THE INDULGENCE 
Will Raise its Throne. 

Pray and Give 

For the Poor Souls that are in Purgatory. 

Four monks equipped with long gilded staves, topped 
with glass lanthorns, on which also souls in torture were 
painted, marched on either side of the cart. A large num¬ 
ber of other Dominican monks carrying a large silver cru¬ 
cifix at their head, followed the cart. The monks chant¬ 
ed in a loud voice the following lugubrious psalm of peni¬ 
tence : 


“De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine; 
Domine, exaudi vocem meam- 
Fiant aures tuae intendentes 
In vocem, deprecationis meael ” 1 


Every time, at the close of the funereal chant, the clatter 
of bells and rattles was struck up anew as the procession 


1 From the bowels of the earth I May thy ears be ready to listen 

have cried up to thee, O, Lord ; To the voice of my supplications. 

O, Lord, give ear unto my voice. 



20 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


marched along. Finally, a second detachment of archers 
brought up the rear. A crowd of ragged men and women, 
all with cynic and even ruffianly faces, almost all night- 
strollers, if not worse, followed in "the wake of the march. 
They held one another by the arms, sang, crossed them¬ 
selves and shouted: 

“Glory to the Holy Father!” 

“He sends us indulgences !” 

“We need them!” 

“Blessings upon him!” 

V 

Interspersed between these exclamations, coarse and even 
obscene jokes were exchanged. The mob nevertheless bore 
the impress of conviction in the most deplorable of super¬ 
stitions. A large number of the inhabitants of the houses 
built upon the bridge threw open their windows as the pro¬ 
cession filed by; some of these reverently knelt down at 
their windows. After the procession had passed and the 
noise sounded only from a distance, Christian re-shut the 
window of his room, and said to his wife in voice that was 
even sadder than before: 

“Alas, this procession seems to me to bode us only ill.” 

“I do not understand you, my friend.” 

“You saw, Bridget, the picture on the transparency of 
the cart that these monks surrounded. It represented the 
souls in purgatory, writhing in flames. The Dominican 
monks, whom the Pope has delegated to sell plenary indul¬ 
gences, also sell the ransoming of souls in pain. All those 
who share that belief are convinced that, by means of 
money, they are able to snatch from the flames of purg- 


THE 'NEOPHYTE. 


21 


atory, not only the near relatives or friends whom they im¬ 
agine exposed to such torture, but also strangers to them. 
Could not Herve have thought to himself: ‘With the gold 
that I purloin from my father I shall be able to ransom 
twenty souls—fifty souls from purgatory’?” 

“Say no more, Christian, say no more!” cried Bridget 
with a shudder; “say no more! My doubts, alas! almost 
turn into certainty;” but suddenly interrupting herself 
and listening in the direction of the door of the room, she 
added in a low voice: “Listen—listen.” 

Husband and wife remained silent. In the midst of the 
profound silence of the night they heard a noise that 
sounded like the intermittent strapping of a body. A 
thought flashed through Christian’s mind; he motioned 
his wife not to stir; took up the lamp, and gently opened 
the door leading to the wooden staircase through which 
the lower floor was reached. Leaning over the banister 
with his hand shading the lamp, Christian saw Herve, 
whom, no doubt, the clatter of bells and rattles of the pro¬ 
cession had awakened, kneeling in only his shirt and trous¬ 
ers upon the floor and inflicting a rude discipline upon his 
sides and shoulders by means of a cat-o’-nine-tails, the 
thongs of which ended in knots. The lad flagellated him¬ 
self with such intense exaltation that he did not notice the 
proximity of his father on the staircase, although the light 
shed by the lamp projected its rays into the lower hall. 
Bridget had followed her husband with tears in her eyes, 
walking on tip-toe. He felt the trembling hand of his 


22 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


wife upon his shoulder and in his ear the whispered words 
of distress that forced themselves through her sobs: 

“Oh, the unhappy boy!” 

“Come, my dear wife; the moment is favorable to ob- 

* 

tain a confession from our son.” 

“And if he confesses, let everything be pardoned,” re¬ 
plied the indulgent mother. “He must have succumbed 
to an impulse of fanatical charity.” 

With the lamp in his hand the artisan descended into the 
kitchen with his wife without seeking to conceal their ap¬ 
proach. The sound of their steps and the creak of the 
wooden staircase under their feet finally attracted Herve’s 
attention. He suddenly turned his head, and, seeing his 
father and mother, rose from the floor w r ith a start as if 
propelled by a spring. In his surprise the lad dropped his 
instrument of torture. 

Christian's son was almost eighteen years of age. His 
once open, happy and blooming face, that breathed frank¬ 
ness, had become pale and somber; his unsteady, restless 
eyes seemed to eschew observation. The unexpected pres¬ 
ence of his parents seemed at first to cause him a painful 
impression; he looked embarrassed; but doubtlessly calling 
himself to account for the unguarded impulse of false 
shame, he said resolutely without raising his eyes: 

“I w T as administering a discipline to myself—I thought 
I was alone—I was fulfilling a penance—” 

“My son,” replied the artisan, “seeing that you are up, 
sit down upon that chair—your mother and I have serious 
matters to speak about with you; we shall be better here 



THE NEOPHYTE. 


23 


than upstairs, where our voice might wake up your sister.” 

Not a little astonished, the lad sat down on a stool. 
Christian also sat down; Bridget remained standing near 
her husband, leaning upon his shoulder, with her eyes 
resting compassionately upon her son. 

“My boy,” said Christian, “I wish, first of all, to assure 
you that neither I nor your mother have ever thought of 
crossing you in the religious practices that you have of late 
been indulging in with all the impetuous ardor of a neo¬ 
phyte. But seeing that the occasion presents itself, I wish 
to make some observations to you upon the subject in all 
fatherly love.” 

“I listen, father; speak.” 

“You, as well as your sister and brother, have been 
brought up by us in the evangelical doctrine—love one an¬ 
other, do not unto others what you would not like to be 
done to, pardon those who trespass against you, pity the 
sinners, help the sorrowful, honor those who repent, be in¬ 
dustrious and honest. These few words sum up the eternal 
morality that your mother and myself have preached and 
held up to you since your infancy as the example to be fol¬ 
lowed. When you reached riper years of intelligence I 
sought to inculcate in your mind that belief of our fathers 
that we are immortal, body and soul, and that after what 
is called death, a moment of transition between the exist¬ 
ence that ends and that which begins, we are born again, 
or, rather, continue to live, spirit and matter, in other 
spheres, thus rising successively, at each of those stages of 



24 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


our eternal existence, towards infinite perfection equal to 
that of the Creator.” 

“That, father, is heresy, and flies in the face of Cath¬ 
olic dogma.” 

“Be it so. I do not force the belief upon you. Every 
man is free to strive in his religious aspirations after his 
own ideal of the relations between the Creator and the 
creature. The freedom to do so is the most priceless at¬ 
tribute of the soul, the sublimest right of human con¬ 
science.” 

“There is no religion in the world beside the Catholic 
religion, the revealed religion,” put in Herve in a sharp 
voice. “All other belief is false—” 

“My friend,” said Christian interrupting his son, “I do 
not wish to enter into a theological discussion with you. 
You have of late lost your former happy disposition, you 
seem to mistrust us, you grow more and more reserved and 
taciturn, your absences from the printing shop are becom¬ 
ing frequent and are prolonged beyond all measure; your 
nature, once so pleasant and buoyant, has become irritable 
and sour, even to the point of rudeness towards your broth¬ 
er Odelin before his departure for Milan. Besides that 
and since, your asperity towards your sister is ever more 
marked—and yet you know that she loves you dearly.” 

At these last words a thrill ran over Herve’s frame. At 
the mention of his sister, his physiognomy grew more in¬ 
tensely somber and assumed an undefinable expression. For 
a moment he remained silent, whereupon his voice, that 
sounded sharp and positive shortly before in his answers 


THE NEOPHYTE. 


25 


regarding religious matters, became unsteady as he stam¬ 
mered : 

“At times I am subject to fits of bad humor that I pray 
God to free me of. If—I have been—rude—to my sister— 
it is without meaning to. I entertain a strong affection 
for her.” 

“We are certain of that, my child,” Bridget replied; 
“your father only mentions the circumstance as one of the 
symptoms of the change that we notice in you, and that so 
much alarms us.” 

“In short,” Christian proceeded, “we regret to see you 
give up the company of the friends of your childhood, and 
no longer share the innocent pleasures that become your 

age.” 

Herve’s voice, that seemed so much out of his control 
when his sister Hena was the topic, became again harsh 
and firm: 

“The friends whom I formerly visited are worldly, they 
are running to perdition; the thoughts that to-day engage 
me are not theirs.” 

“You are free to choose your connections, my friend, 
provided they be honorable. I see you have become an in¬ 
timate friend of Fra Girard, the Franciscan monk—” 

“God sent him across my path—he is a saint! His 
place is marked in paradise.” 

“I shall not dispute the sanctity of Fra Girard; he is , 
said to be a man of probity, and I believe it. I must ad¬ 
mit, however, that I would have preferred to see you form 
some other friendship; the monk is several years your 


26 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


senior; you seem to have a blind faith in him; I fear lest 
the fervor of his zeal may render you intolerant, and lead 
you to share his own excessive religious exaltation. For 
all that, I never reproached you for your intimacy with 
Fra Girard—■” 

“Despite anything that you could have done or said, 
father, I would have seen to my own salvation. God be¬ 
fore the family/’ 

“And do you imagine, my son, that we could be op¬ 
posed to your welfare?” asked Bridget in an accent of 
affectionate reproach. “Do you not know how much we 
love you? Are not all our thoughts dictated by our at¬ 
tachment to you ? Can you doubt our affection ?” 

“Happiness lies in the faith, and the faith comes to us 
from heaven. There is no welfare outside of the bosom 
of the Church.” 

“It would have become you better to answer your moth¬ 
er’s kind words with other terms,” observed Christian, as 
he saw his wife hurt and saddened by the harshness of 
Herv4’s words. “If your faith comes from heaven, filial 
love also is a celestial sentiment; may God forfend that it 
be weakened in your heart—in fine, may God forfend that 
Fra Girard’s influence over you should tend to pervert, 
despite himself and despite yourself, your sense of right 
and wrong.” 

“I do not understand you, father.” 

The artisan cast a significant look at Bridget, who, 
guessing her husband’s secret thoughts, felt assailed by 
mortal anguish. 


the neophyte. 


27 


“I shall explain myself more clearly/ 5 Christian con¬ 
tinued. “Do you remember a few days ago at the shop 
when some of our fellow workmen expressed indignation 
at the traffic in indulgences?’ 5 

“Yes, father; and I withered the blasphemous utterances 
with the contempt that they deserved. Indulgences open 
the gates of heaven. 55 

“One of our fellow workingmen loudly likened the com¬ 
merce in indulgences to a theft/ 5 Christian proceeded, un¬ 
able completely to overcome his emotion, while Bridget 
in vain sought to catch the eyes of her son, who, from the 
start of this conversation held his eyes nailed to the floor. 
“Upon hearing so severe an opinion expressed' upon the 
indulgences/ 5 Christian added, “you, my son, shouted that 
all money, even if it proceeded from theft, became holy if 
devoted to pious works; you said so, did you not? You 
thereby justified a reprehensible action. 55 

“It is my conviction. 55 

After a momentary silence the artisan again resumed: 

“My boy, you were surely awakened to-night, as we our¬ 
selves were, by the noise of the procession. It was the 
procession of indulgences. 55 

“Yes, father—and in order to render my prayers for 
the deliverance of the souls in purgatory more efficacious, 
I macerated myself. 55 

“The monks claim that the souls in purgatory can be 
ransomed by money; do they not make the claim? 55 

“It is the doctrine of the Catholic Church, father. The 
Church can not err. 55 


28 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Herve, let me suppose that you find on the street a 
purse full of gold; would you believe yourself justified to 
dispose of it in behalf of the souls in purgatory, without 
first inquiring after the rightful owner of the purse?” 

“I would not hesitate a minute to do what you said. I 
would take it to the Church.” 

Christian and Bridget exchanged looks of distress at 
this answer. Their suspicions were almost confirmed. 
They now counted at least with Herve’s frankness. Con¬ 
vinced that all means were legitimate in order to compass 
the salvation of souls in pain, he would assuredly admit 
the theft. The artisan proceeded: 

“My son, we never set you the example of duplicity. 
Particularly at this moment when we must appeal to your 
frankness, we shall speak without circumlocution. I have 
this to say to you: The fruits of your mother’s laborious 
savings and my own have been recently purloined; the 
sum amounted to twenty gold crowns.” 

Herve remained impassable and silent. 

“The theft was committed yesterday or the day before,” 
pursued Christian, painfully affected by his son’s impas¬ 
siveness. “The money was deposited in the case in our 
bedroom, and could have been taken away by none except 
a person familiar in our house.” 

With his hands crossed over his knees and his eyes on 
the floor, Herve remained silent, impenetrable. 

“Your mother and I first cudgeled our brains to ascer¬ 
tain who could have committed the guilty act,” Christian 
proceeded, driving the point nearer and nearer home, and 


THE NEOPHYTE. 


29 


he added slowly, accentuating these last words: “It then 
occurred to us that, seeing the theft was justifiable by your 
convictions—that is to say, that it was legitimate if com¬ 
mitted for the sake of some pious work—you might—in a 
moment of mental aberration—have appropriated the sum 
for the purpose of consecrating it to the ransoming of 
souls in purgatory.” 

The husband and wife awaited their son’s answer with 
mortal anxiety. Christian watched him closely and ob¬ 
served that, despite Herve’s apparent impassiveness, a 
slight flush suffused his face; although the lad did not 
raise his eyes, he cast furtive glances at his parents. The 
somber and guilty glances, caught by Christian, surprised 
and distressed him. He no longer doubted his son’s guilt, 
he even despaired of drawing from the lad a frank admis¬ 
sion that might somewhat have extenuated the ugly ac¬ 
tion. Christian continued with a penetrating voice: 

“My son, I have acquainted you with the painful sus¬ 
picions that weigh upon our hearts—have you no answer 
to make?” 

“Father,” said Herve firmly and tersely, “I have not 
touched your money.” 

“He lies,” thought the desolate artisan to himself; “it 
is our own son who committed the theft.” 

“Herve,” cried Bridget with her face bathed in tears 
and throwing herself at the feet of her son, around whom 
she threw her arms, “my son, be frank—we shall not scold 
you! Good God, we believe in the sincerity of your new 
convictions—they are your only excuse! You certainly 


30 TEE POCKET BIBLE. 

must have believed that with the aid of that money, which 
lay idle on the shelf of the book-case, you might redeem 
poor souls from the tortures of purgatory. The charitable 
purpose of such a superstition might, aye, it is bound to, 
carry away a young head like yours. I repeat to you; we 
shall look upon that as your excuse; we shall accept the 
excuse, in the hope of leading you back again to more 
wholesome ideas of good and evil. From your point of 
view, so far from your action being wrongful, it must have 
seemed meritorious to you. Why not admit it? Is it 
shame that restrains you, my poor boy? Fear nor. The 
secret will remain with your father and me/’ And em¬ 
bracing the lad with maternal warmth, Bridget added: 
“Do not the principles in which we brought you up make 
us feel sure that, despite your temporary blindness, you 
will know better in the future? Could you possibly be¬ 
come confirmed in dishonesty, you, my son? You who 
until now gave us so much cause for happiness? Come, 
Herve, make a manly effort—tell us the truth—you will 
thereby change our sorrow into joy; your confession will 
prove your frankness and your confidence in our indulgence 
and tenderness. You still are silent?—not a word—you 
have not a word for me ?” cried the wretched woman, see¬ 
ing her son remaining imperturbable. “What! w r e who 
should complain, are imploring you! You should be in 
tears, and yet it is I alone who weep! You should be at 
our feet, and I am at yours! And yet you remain like a 
piece of icy marble! Oh, unhappy child !” 


THE EEOPHYTE. 


31 


“Mother,” repeated Herve with inflexible voice without 
Taising his eyes, “I have not touched your money.” 

In despair at such insensibility, Bridget rose and threw 
herself convulsively sobbing into the arms of her husband: 
“I am a mother to be pitied.” 

“My son,” now said Christian in a severe tone, “if you 
are guilty—and I regret but too deeply that I fear you 
are—learn this: Even if you should have employed the 
money that has been purloined from my room in what you 
term ‘pious works/ you would not therefore be less guilty 
of a theft, do you understand?—a theft in all the dis¬ 
graceful sense of the word! I was not mistaken ! It has 
turned out so! By means of unworthy sophisms, your 
friend Fra Girard has perverted your one-time sense of 
right and wrong! Oh, whatever insane or impostor monks 
may say to the contrary, human and divine morality will 
always condemn theft, whatever the disguises or hypo¬ 
critical pretexts may be under which it is committed. To 
believe that such a disgraceful action deserves no punish¬ 
ment—worse yet, that it is meritorious—by reason of the 
fruits thereof being consecrated to charitable works, is 
about the most monstrous mental aberration that can ever 
insult the conscience of an honest man!” Christian there¬ 
upon supported and led Bridget in tears back towards the 
staircase, took up the lamp, and walked upstairs with these 
parting w r ords to his son: “May heaven open your eyes, 
my son and inspire you with repentance!” 

Imperturbable as ever, Herve did not seem to hear his 



32 THE POCKET BIBLE. 

father’s last words. When the latter re-entered his own 
room with his wife and closed the door, the young man, 
who had remained in the dark, threw himself down upon 
his knees, picked up his instrument of discipline and be¬ 
gan flagellating himself with savage fury. The lad smoth¬ 
ered the cries that the pain involuntarily forced from him, 
and, a prey to delirious paroxysms, only murmured from 
time to time, with bated breath, the name of his sister 
Hena. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 

The morning after the trying night experienced by 
Christian and his wife, a large crowd filled the church of 
the Dominican Convent. It was a bizarre crowd. It con¬ 
sisted of people of all conditions. Thieves and mendi¬ 
cants, artisans, bourgeois and seigneurs, lost women and 
devout old dames, ladies of distinction and plebeian women 
and children of all ages, elbowed one another. They were 
all attracted by that day’s religious celebration^; they 
crowded especially near the choir. This space was shut 
off by an iron railing four feet in height; it was to be the 
theater of the most important incidents in the ceremony. 
Among the spectators nearest to the choir stood Herve 
Lebrenn together with his friend Fra Girard. The Fran¬ 
ciscan monk was about twenty-five years of age, and of a ca¬ 
daverous, austere countenance. The mask of asceticism 
concealed an infernal knave gifted with superior intelli¬ 
gence. The monk enveloped his young companion, so to 
speak, with a fascinating gaze; the latter, apparently a 
prey to profound preoccupation, bent his head and crossed 
his arms over his breast. 

“Serve,” said Fra Girard in a low voice, “do you re- 


34 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


member the day when in a fit of despair and terror yotl 
came to me to confession—and confessed a thing that you 
hardly dared admit to yourself?” 

“Yes,” answered Herve with a shudder and dropping 
his eyes still lower; “yes, I remember the day.” 

“I then told you,” the Franciscan proceeded to say, 
“that the Catholic Church, from which you were separated 
from childhood by an impious education, afforded conso¬ 
lation to troubled hearts—even better, held out hope— 
still better than that, gave positive assurance even to the 
worst of sinners, provided they had faith. By little and 
little our long and frequent conversations succeeded in 
causing the divine light to penetrate your mind, and the 
scales dropped from your eyes. The faith that I then 
preached to you, has since filled and now overflows your 
soul. Fasting, maceration and ardent prayer have smooth¬ 
ed the way for your salvation. The hour of your reward 
has arrived. Blessed be the Lord!” 

Fra Girard had hardly uttered these words when the 
deep notes of the organ filled with a melancholic harmony 
the lugubrious church into which the light of day broke 
only through narrow windows of colored glass. A pro¬ 
cession that issued from the interior of the Dominican 
cloister entered the church and marched around the aisles. 
The cortege was headed by four footmen clad in red, the 
papal livery, who held aloft four standards upon which 
the pontifical coat-of-arms was emblazoned; they were 
followed by priests in surplices surrounding a cross and 
chanting psalms of penitence; behind these came an- 


TEE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 


35 


other platoon of papal footmen, bearing a stretcher cov¬ 
ered with gold cloth, and in the center of which, on a 
cushion of crimson velvet, lay a red box containing the 
bull of Leo X empowering the Order of St. Dominic to 
dispense indulgences. Several censer-bearers walked back¬ 
ward before the stretcher, and stopped from time to time 
in order to swing their copper and silver censers from 
which clouds of perfumed vapor issued and circled up¬ 
ward. A Dominican prior walked behind the stretcher 
clasping a large cross of red wood in his arms; this dig¬ 
nitary—a man in the full vigor of age, tall of stature and 
so corpulent that his paunch threatened to burst his frock 
—was the Apostolic Commissioner entrusted with the sale 
of indulgences; a heavy black beard framed in his high- 
colored face; the monk’s triumphant gait and the haughty 
looks that he cast around him pointed him out as the 
hero of the approaching ceremony. He was followed by a 
long line of penitentiaries and sub-Apostolic Commission¬ 
ers with white wands in their hands. A last squad of 
papal footmen, holding by leather straps a huge coffer also 
covered with crimson velvet and locked with three gilded 
clasps, closed the procession. A slit, similar to that of the 
poor-boxes in churches, was cut into the lid of the coffer. 
Through it the moneys were to be dropped by the pur¬ 
chasers of indulgences, or by the faithful, anxious to re¬ 
deem the souls in purgatory. 

When the procession, at the passage of which the crowd 
prostrated itself religiously, completed the circuit of the 
church, the papal footmen who bore the banners grouped 


36 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


them as trophies upon the main altar, before which the 
stretcher, covered with gold cloth, the bull, and the big 
coffer were processionally borne. The Apostolic Com¬ 
missioner with the cross of red wood in his hand placed 
himself near the coffer; the penitentiaries ranked them¬ 
selves in front of several confessionals that were set up for 
the occasion near the choir, and all of which bore the pon¬ 
tifical arms. 

The excitement and curiosity awakened by the proces¬ 
sion together with the peals of the organ and the chant 
of the priests excited a considerable agitation in the church. 
By degrees quiet was restored, the kneeling faithful rose 
again to their feet, and all eyes turned impatiently to¬ 
wards the choir. Herve, who had been one of the first to 
prostrate himself, was among the last to rise; the lad was 
a prey to profound agony; perspiration bathed his now 
livid face; he was hardly able to breathe. Turning his 
wandering eyes towards Fra Girard, he said to the monk 
in broken accents: 

“Oh, if I only can rely upon your promises! The mo¬ 
ment has arrived when I must believe. I tremble!” 

“Oh, man of little faith!” answered the Franciscan with 
severity and pointing to the papal commissioner, who was 
preparing to speak; “listen—and repent that you doubted. 
Ask God to pardon you.” 

The silence became profound; the dealer in indulgences 
deftly rolled up the sleeves of his robe, just as a juggler 
in the market would have done in order not to be hindered 
in the tumultuous motions of his performance, and point- 


I 


THE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 37 

ing to the red cross which he placed beside him, he cried 
in a stentorian voice fit to make the glass windows of the 
building rattle: 

“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy 
Ghost, Amen ! 1 You see this cross, my beloved brothers? 
Well, this cross is as efficacious as the cross of Jesus Christ! 
You will ask me. How so? My answer is that this is, so 
to speak, the symbol of the indulgences that our Holy 
Father has commissioned me to dispense. But what are 
these indulgences ? you will then ask ? What they are, my 
brothers? They are the most precious gift, the most 
miraculous, the most wonderful that the Lord has ever 
bestowed upon His faithful! Therefore, I say unto you— 
Come, come to me; I shall give you letters furnished with 
the seal of our Holy Father, and thanks to these letters, 
my brothers—would you believe it?—not only will the 
sins that you have committed be pardoned, but they will 
give you absolution for the sins that you desire to commit!” 

“Did you hear that?” Fra Girard whispered to Herve. 
“One can obtain absolution both for the sins that he has 
committed, and for the sins that he intends to commit!” 

“But—there—are—things—crimes and outrages,” stam¬ 
mered Herve with secret horror, “that, may be, one can 
not obtain absolution for! Oh, woe is me! I feel my¬ 
self sliding down a fatal slope!” 

“Listen,” replied the Franciscan, “listen to the end; 
you will then understand.” 

i This whole sermon is a repro- XYI Centum, vol. I. p. 332. (Pp. 
auction from the records of the 8«. 87. edition H. W. Hagemann 
time. See Merle d’Aubign£. His - Publishing Co., New York, 1894.) 
tory of the Reformation in the 



38 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


The mass of people that were crowded in the church 
received with indescribable signs of satisfaction the words 
uttered by the Dominican seller of indulgences; especially 
did those whose purses were well lined hail with delight 
the prospect of their salvation if they but took the pre¬ 
caution of equipping themselves in advance with an ab¬ 
solution that embraced the past, the present and the fu¬ 
ture. The Apostolic Commissioner observed the magic ef¬ 
fect that his words produced; in a jovial and familiar tone 
he proceeded to harangue the audience amidst violent con¬ 
tortions of both face and limbs: 

“Now, let us have a heart-to-heart talk, my brothers; 
let us reason together. Let us suppose that you wish to 
undertake a voyage into some strange country that is in¬ 
fested with thieves; fearing that you will be rifled of all 
that you carry about you before you attain the end of your 
journey, you do not wish to take your money with you. 
What do you do? You take your money to a banker, do 
you not? You allow him a slight profit, and he furnishes 
you with a draft, by means of which the money that you 
deposited with him is paid over to you in the strange 
country, upon your arrival there. Do you understand me 
well, my beloved brothers?” 

“Yes,” answered several of the faithful; “we under¬ 
stand—proceed with your discourse.” 

“Miserable sinners!” replied the Dominican suddenly 
changing his jovial tone into a thundering voice. “Mis¬ 
erable sinners! You understand me, say you? and yet you 
hesitate to buy from me for the small price of a few crowns 


THE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 


39 


a draft of salvation! What! Despite all the sins that 
you may render yourselves guilty of during the voyage of 
life, infested as that road is with diabolical temptations 
that are infinitely more dangerous than thieves, this draft 
will be paid to you in paradise in the divine money of 
eternal salvation by the Almighty, upon whom we, the 
bankers of souls, have drawn in your name-—and yet you 
hesitate to insure to yourselves at so small a cost your 
share of the celestial enjoyments reserved for the blissful! 
No! No! You will not hesitate, my brothers! You will 
buy my indulgences !” the Dominican now proceeded to 
say with a resumption of familiar and even paternal so¬ 
licitude. “Nor is this all, my brothers; my indulgences 
do not save the living only, they redeem the dead! Aye, 
the dead, be they even as hardened as Lucifer himself! 
But, you may ask, how can your indulgences deliver the 
dead?” cried the merchant of salvation again shouting at 
the top of his voice, “How will my indulgences save the 
dead? Can it be that you do not hear the voices of your 
parents, your friends, even of strangers to you—but what 
does that matter, seeing that you are Christians?—call it 
be that you do not hear their frightful concert of male¬ 
dictions, of groans, of gnashing of teeth which rises from 
the bottom of the abyss of fire, where those poor souls are 
writhing in the furnace of purgatory—where they writhe, 
waiting for the mercy of God or the pious works of man 
to deliver them from their dreadful tortures? Can it be 
that you do not hear those miserable sinners, the piteous 
moanings of those unhappy people, who from the bottom 




40 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


of the yawning gulf where the flames are devouring them 
cry out to you: ‘Oh, ye stony hearts! we are enduring 
frightful torture! An alms would deliver us! You can 
give it! Will you refuse to give it?* Will you refuse, my 
brothers? No! I know you will give the alms. I know 
you will give it when you consider that the very instant 
your gold crowns drop into this trunk,” (pointing to it) 
“crack—psitt—the soul pops out of purgatory and flies 
into heaven like a dove liberated from its cage! Amen! 
Empty your purses, empty your purses, my friends!” 

The majority of the audience before the Dominican 
seemed little concerned about the deliverance of souls in 
pain. However blind their superstitious belief, it had a 
certain charitable side, but that side had no attraction 
whatever for the faithful ones who were attracted only by 
the expectation of being able, by means of indulgences, to 
give a loose, in perfect security of conscience, to whatever 
excesses or crimes they had in mind. 

A man with a gallows-bird face named Pichrocholle, 
one of the Mauvais-Gargons who hired out their homicidal 
daggers to the highest bidder, said in a low voice to a 
Tire-Laine, another bandit, and one of. the worst of his 
kind: 

“As truly as the Franc-Taupin whom I was speaking 
about to you a short time ago saved my life at the battle 
of Miarignan, I would not give six silver sous for the re¬ 
demption of the souls in purgatory! Oh, if I only were 
rich enough to purchase a good letter of absolution— 
? sdeath!—I would pay for it gladly and spot-cash, too! 


TEE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 


41 


Once the papal absolution is in your pocket, your hand is 
firmer at its work, it does not tremble when dispatching 
your man! With an absolution duly executed, you can 
defy the fork of Satan on the Judgment Day. But by 
St. Cadouin, what do I care for the souls in purgatory! 
I laugh at their deliverance! And you, Grippe-Minaud ?” 

“I confess,” answered the Tire-Laine, “I bother as little 
about the souls in purgatory as about an empty purse. 
But tell me, Pichrocholle,” added Grippe-Minaud with a 
pensive air, “letters of absolution are too dear for poor 
devils like ourselves—suppose we stole one of those blessed 
letters from the commissioner, would the theft be a sin?” 

“’Sdeath! How could it be ? Does it not give absolu¬ 
tion in advance? But those jewels are kept too safely to 
be pilfered.” 

While the Mauvais-Gargon and the Tire-Laine were ex¬ 
changing these observations, the Apostolic Commissioner 
rolled his sleeves still higher, and continued his sermon, 
interspersing his words with smiles or violent gestures 
according as the occasion demanded: 

“But, my brothers, you will say to me: You puff your 
indulgences a good deal; nevertheless there are such fright¬ 
ful crimes, crimes that are so abominable, so monstrous 
that your indulgences could never reach them! You are 
mistaken, my brothers. No! A thousand times no ! My 
indulgences are so good, they are so sure, they are so effi¬ 
cacious, so powerful that they absolve everything—yes, 
everything! Do you want an example? Let us suppose 
an impossible thing—let us suppose that someone were 


42 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


to rape the holy Mother of God—an abominable act of 
sacrilege I ” 1 

A long murmur expressive of dreadful suspense and 
hope received these last words of the trafficker in indulge 
ences; a boundless horizon was opened for all manner of 
the blackest and most unheard-of felonies. Among others 
in the crowd, Herve remained hanging upon the lips of 
the Dominican; the lad was seized with dizziness; he im¬ 
agined himself oppressed by a nightmare. The hollow¬ 
sounding voice of Fra Girard awoke him to reality. With 
a triumphant accent the Franciscan whispered to his dis¬ 
ciple : 

“An insult to the Mother of God herself would be par¬ 
doned ! Even such a crime would be reached by an in¬ 
dulgence! Did you hear him? Did you? An indulgence 
would cover even that!” 

A tremor ran through Herve from head to foot; he made 
no answer, hid his face in his hands, and feeling himself 
reel like an intoxicated man and even his knees to yield 
under him, the lad found himself obliged to lean upon 
the arms of the Franciscan, who contemplated him with 
an expression of infernal joy. 

The merchant of indulgences had paused for a moment 


1 We consider it our duty to 
cite literally the monstrous fact 
against which the heart rises in 
revolt, and reason feels indig¬ 
nant : 

“Sub commissarils insuper ac 
praedicatoribus veniarum impo- 
nere ut si quis, per impossibile, 
Dei genetricem, semper virginem 
violasset, quod eundem indulgen* 


tiarum vigore absolvere posset 
luce clarius est. ...” —(.Posi- 
tiones fratris J. Tezelii, quibus 
defendit indulgentias contra Lu- 
therum. Theses 99, 100 and 101). 
Cited by Merle d’Aubigng, His¬ 
tory of the Reformation in th*> 
XVI Century, p. 86, edition H. 
W. Hagemann Publishing Co., 
New York, 1894. 



TEE SALE OF INDULGENCES . 


43 


upon uttering his abominable supposition in order the bet¬ 
ter to assure himself of its effect; he then proceeded in a 
stentorian voice: 

“You tremble, my brothers ! So much the better! That 
proves that you appreciate in the fulness of its horror the 
sacrilege which I cited as an example! Now', then, the 
more horrible the sacrilege, all the more sovereign is the 
virtue of my indulgences, seeing that they give absolution 
therefor! Yes, my brothers, whatever the sacrilege that 
you may commit, you will be pardoned—provided you 
pay for it—provided you pay bountifully for it! That is 
clearer than day! Our Lord God will have no pow r er over 
you, he ceases to be God, having assigned His pardoning 
power to the Pope. But, you may still ask, why does our 
Holy Father so bountifully distribute the boon of his in¬ 
dulgences? Why?” repeated the Dominican in a voice 
of deep lament; "why ? Alas! alas ! alas ! my brothers, it 
is in order to be enabled, thanks to the returns from the 
sales of these indulgences, to rebuild the Basilica of St. 
Peter and St. Paul in Rome with such splendor that there 
is none to match it in the world. Indeed, none other must 
be like that basilica, which contains the sacred bodies of 
the tw T o apostles! And this notwithstanding—would you 
believe it, my brothers?—the Cathedral of Rome is in 
such a state of dilapidation that the holy bones, the sacro¬ 
sanct bones of St. Peter and St. Paul are so constantly 
exposed to the peltings of rain and hail, they are so soiled 
and dishonored by dust and vermin that they are falling 
to pieces P 


44 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


A shudder of painful indignation ran over the faithful 
crowd assembled before the Dominican when thus in¬ 
formed that the relics of the apostles were exposed to the 
inclemencies of the weather and the soilure of vermin as 
a result of the dilapidated state of the Basilica of Rome, 
while, since then, the most marvelous monument of archi¬ 
tecture that immortalizes the genius of Michael Angelo, 
was reared to the admiration of the world. Perceiving 
the effect made by his peroration, the Dominican proceed¬ 
ed in a thundering voice: 

“No, my brothers! No! The sacred ashes of the apos¬ 
tles shall no longer remain in dirt and disgrace! No! 
Indulgence has set up its throne in the Church of St. 
Dominic!” and pointing to the large coffer and beating 
with his fists a tattoo upon the lid, the Apostolic Commis¬ 
sioner added with the roar of a bull: “Now, bring your 
money! Bring it, good people! Bring plenty! I shall 
put you the example of charity. I consecrate this gold 
piece to the redemption of souls in purgatory!” 

And pulling out of his pocket a half ducat which he 
held up glistening to the eyes of the crowd, he dropped 
it into the coffer through the slit in the lid, upon which 
he continued to strike with his fists, keeping time to his 
words as he cried: 

“Fetch your money! Fetch it, good people! Fetch 
your ducats 

The front ranks of the crowd broke in response to tne 
summons of the trafficker in indulgences and hastened to 


THE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 


45 


empty their purses. But the Dominican held back the 
surging crowd with a gesture of his hand and said: 

“One more word, my dear brothers! Do you see these 
confessionals decorated with the armorial bearings of the 
Holy Father? The priests who will take your confessions 
represent the apostolic penitentiaries of Rome on the occa¬ 
sions of grand jubilees. All those who wish to participate 
in the three principal indulgences will proceed to these 
confessionals and will conscientiously notify the confessor 
of the amount of money that they are disposed to deprive 
themselves of in order to obtain the following favors: 

“The first is the absolute remission of all sins—past, 
present and future. 

“The second is freedom from participation in the works 
of the Holy Church, such as fasts, prayers, pilgrimages 
and macerations of all nature. 

“The third—listen carefully, my brothers, pay particular 
attention to the last words, as the saying is—this indulg¬ 
ence exceeds all that the most faithful believers can wish 

for r 

“Listen,” whispered Fra Girard to Herve; “listen, and 
repent your having doubted the resources of the faith.” 

“Oh, I doubt no longer, and yet I hardly dare to hope,” 
murmured the son of Christian with bated breath, while 
the Dominican proceeded to announce aloud: 

“The third favor, my brothers, gives you the right to 
choose a confessor, who, every time that you fear you are 
about to die, will be bound—by virtue of the letter of ab¬ 
solution that you will have purchased and which you will 


46 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


display before him—to give you absolution not only for 
your ordinary sins, but also for those greater crimes the 
remission of which is reserved to the apostolic See, to wit, 
bestiality, the crime against nature, parricide and incest.” 

The Dominican had hardly pronounced these words 
when Herve’s features became frightful to behold. The 
lad’s eyes shot fire, and a smile of the damned curled his 
lips as Fra Girard stooped down to him and whispered in 
his ear: 

“Did I deceive you? The indulgence is absolute, even 
for incest.” 

“Finally, my brothers,” the Apostolic Commissioner pro¬ 
ceeded to say, “the fourth favor consists in redeeming souls 
from purgatory. For this favor, my brothers, it is not 
necessary, as for the three first ones, to be contrite of 
heart and to confess. No, no! It is enough if you drop 
your offerings in this coffer. You will thereby snatch the 
souls of the dead from the tortures that they are under¬ 
going; and you will be moreover contributing towards the 
holy work of restoring the Basilica of St. Peter and St. 
Paul at Rome. Now, then, my brothers,” he added, thump¬ 
ing anew upon the coffer, “come forward with your money! 
Come forward with your ducats! Come!” 

Upon this last exhortation the railing of the choir was 
thrown open. The small number of the charitably dis¬ 
posed who wished to deliver the souls in pain began filing 
before the coffer into which they dropped their offerings 
after making the sign of the cross; the confessionals, 
however, in which the pontifical penitentiaries took their 


TEE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 47 

seats, ready to issue letters of absolution, were immediately 
besieged by a mob of men and women, anxious to obtain 
impunity in the eyes of heaven and of their own con¬ 
science for sins ranging from the most venial up to mon¬ 
strous deeds that cause nature to shudder. It was a fright¬ 
ful sight, the spectacle presented by the mob around these 
confessionals crowding to the quarry of impunity for 
crime. 

Good God! Your vicars order and exploit the traffic! 
Behold human conscience upturned, shaken at its very 
foundation, losing even the sense of discrimination be¬ 
tween vice and virtue! The moral sense is perverted, it 
is smothered by sacrilegious superstition! Mankind is 
lashed to a vertigo of folly and evil by the assurance of 
impunity, feeling certain, Oh, God of justice! of having 
You for an accomplice! Souls, until then innocent, no 
longer recoil before any passion however execrable, the 
bare thought of which is a crime! Does not the Pope of 
Rome absolve for all eternity, in exchange for a few gold 
crowns, even parricide and incest? If only its faith is 
strong enough the incestuous or parricidal heart knows, 
feels itself absolved! Oh, in honor at least to the religious 
sentiment—the divine gift implanted in man’s heart, 
whatever the dogma may be in which it is wrapped— 
there are Catholic priests of austere morals who, despite 
their intolerance, have, in these accursed times, indignantly 
repudiated the monstrous idolatries and savage fetichism 
that even ancient paganism knew nothing of! No! No! 
Christ, your celestial gospel is and will remain the most 


48 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


scathing condemnation of the horrors that are committed 
in your venerated name. Those ])apal penitentiaries in 
the confessionals emblazoned with the pontifical arms, 
those new dealers in merchandise in the Temple dare to 
sell for cash patents of salvation! Alas! After a few 
hurried words exchanged with Fra Girard, Herve was one 
of the first to hurry to the confessionals and kneel down; 
he did not long remain there; those near him heard the 
papal penitentiary first utter a cry of surprise; silence en¬ 
sued, broken by the intermittent sobs of the lad; the chink¬ 
ing of the money that was being counted out to the priest 
in the confessional announced the close of the absolutional 
conversation. Herve issued out of the tribunal of peni¬ 
tence holding a parchment with a convulsive clutch, close¬ 
ly followed by Fra Girard; he cleaved the compact mass 
of people, and withdrew to one of the lateral chapels; 
there he knelt down before a sanctuary of the Virgin that 
a lamp illumined, and by its light read the letter of abso¬ 
lution that he had just bought with his father’s money. 
The pontifical letter was couched in the following terms: 


May our Lord Jesus Christ have mercy upon you [here fol¬ 
lowed a blank space into which the name of the owner of the letter 
was to be inserted] ; may He absolve you by the virtue of the 
Holy Passion. And I, in virtue of the apostolical power in me 
vested, do hereby absolve you from all ecclesiastical censures, 
judgments and punishments that you may have deserved; fur¬ 
thermore of all excesses, sins and crimes that you may have com¬ 
mitted, however grave and eno'rmous these may he, and whatever 
the cause thereof, even if such sins and crimes be those reserved 


THE SALE OF INDULGENCES. 


49 


to our Holy Father the Pope and to the apostolic See— such as 
bestiality, the sin against nature, parricide and incest. I hereby 
efface from you all traces of inability, all the marks of infamy 
that you may have drawn upon yourself on such occasions; I in¬ 
duct you anew as a participant of the sacraments of the Church; 
I re-incorporate you in the community of saints; I restore you to 
the innocence and purity that you were in at the hour of your 
baptism, so that, at the hour of your death, the door through 
which one passes to the place of torments and pain shall be closed 
to you, while on the contrary, the gate that leads to the Paradise 
of joy shall be wide open to you, and should you not die speedily, 
Oh, my son! this token of mercy shall remain unalterable until 
your ultimate end. 

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amenl 

Brother John Tezel, 

Apostolic Commissioner, signed by his own hand . 1 

Without rising from his knees Herve frequently inter¬ 
rupted the reading of the document with suppressed signs 
of pleased and blissful astonishment. The absolution that 
he was now the owner of extended to the past, it covered 
the present, it reached the future. As Fra Girard called 
the purchasers attention to the fact, the document bore 
no date and thereby extended the apostolic efficacy over all 
the sins, all the crimes that the holder of the indulgence 
might commit to the end of his days. Herve folded the 
parchment and inserted it into the scapulary that hung 
from his neck under his shirt, bowed down till his fore¬ 
head touched the slab of the floor at the foot of the sanc¬ 
tuary and kissed it devoutly. Alas! The unfortunate lad 
was sincere in his frightful thankfulness towards the di¬ 
vine power that granted him the remission. His mind 

1 Merle d’Aubign£, History of edition H. W. Hagemann Pub- 

the Reformation in the XVI Cen- lishing Co., New York, 1894.) 

tury, vol. I, pp. 328, 329. (P. 88, 



50 


TEE POCKET BIBLE . 


being led astray by a. detestable influence, he felt himself, 
he believed himself, absolved of all the wrongs that his 
delirious imagination raved over. Fra Girard contem¬ 
plated the prostrate lad with an expression of sinister tri¬ 
umph. The latter suddenly rose and, as if seized with a 
vertigo, staggered towards the railing of the chapel. The 
Franciscan held him back by the arm, and pointing at 
the image of the Virgin, arrayed in a flowing robe of 
silver cloth studded with pearls, and her head crowned 
with a golden crown that glistened in the semi-darkness 
of the dimly-lighted sanctuary, said in a solemn voice: 

“Behold the image of the mother of our Savior, and re¬ 
member the words of the Apostolic Commissioner. Even 
if the horrible sacrilege that he mentioned were a feasible 
thing, it could be absolved by the letter that you now own. 
If that is so, and it may not be doubted, what then be¬ 
comes of the remorse and the terrors that have assailed 
you during the last three months? Since the day when, 
distracted with despair by the discovery of the frightful 
secret that had lain concealed in the bottom of your heart, 
you came to me, and yielding, despite yourself, to the irre¬ 
sistible instinct that whispered to you: ‘Only in faith will 
you be healed/ you confessed your trials to me—since that 
day you have hourly realized that your instinct guided you 
rightly and that my words were true. To-day you are 
assured of a place in paradise. Herve—do you hear me ?” 

“I hear/’ and after a moment of pensiveness: “Oh, ce¬ 
lestial miracle for which, with my forehead in the dust, I 
rendered thanks to the mother of our Savior. Yes, since 


THE SALE OF INDULGENCES . 51 

a minute ago, from the moment that I became the owner 
of this sacred schedule, my conscience has regained its 
former serenity, my mind is in peace, my heart is full of 
hope. I now only need to will and to dare—I shall will, 
I shall dare! Mine is the bliss of paradise!” 

Herve uttered these words with calm conviction. He 
did not lie. No, his conscience was serene, his mind at 
peace, his heart full of hope, even the lines on his face 
seemed suddenly transfigured; their savage and tormented 
expression made room for a sort of blissful ecstasy, a 
slight flush again enlivened the cheeks that frequent fasts, 
macerations and mental conflicts had paled. The monk 
smiled silently at the metamorphosis; he took Herve by 
the arm, walked with him out of the church, and as the 
two stepped out upon the street said to him : 

“You have now entered upon the path of salvation; your 
faith has been tried—will you still hesitate to join the 
ranks of the militants, who openty preach and cause this 
faith to triumph, the miraculous efficacy of which you 
have yourself experienced this day? Think of the glory 
of our holy mother the Church.” , 

“Speak not now to me of such things. My thoughts 
are elsewhere—they are near my sister Hena.” 

“Very well; but, Herve, never forget what I have often 
told you, and that your modesty makes you disregard. 
Your intelligence is exceptional; your erudition extensive; 
heaven has endowed you with the precious gift of a per¬ 
suasive eloquence; the monastic Orders, especially the one 
to which I belong, I say so in all humility, recruit them- 


52 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


selves carefully with young men whose gifts give promise 
of a brilliant future; this is enough to tell you of what 
priceless value you would be to our Order; you could 
make with us a rapid and brilliant career; you might even 
become the prior of our monastery. But I shall not pur¬ 
sue this subject; you are not listening to me; w r e shall 
take up the matter later. Where are you going so fast?” 

“I am going back to my father, to the printing shop of 
Master Robert Estienne.” 

“Be prudent—above all, no indiscretion!” 

“Girard,” answered Herve with a slightly moved voice 
and after a second’s reflection, “I know not what may 
happen during the next few days; I will, and I shall dare; 
can I at all events count upon obtaining asylum in your 
cell ?” 

“Whatever the hour of the day or night may be, you 
may ring at the little gate of the convent, where the faith¬ 
ful repair who come to ask our assistance for the dying; 
ask the brother gateman for me; that will let you in and 
you will find an inviolable asylum within our walls; you 
will there be sheltered from all pursuit.” 

“I thank you for the promise, and I rely upon it. Adieu. 
Think of me in your prayers.” 

“Adieu, and let me see you soon again,” answered the 
Franciscan as he followed with his eyes the rapidly re¬ 
treating figure of Herve. “Whatever may happen,” added 
Fra Girard to himself, “he now belongs to us, body and 
soul. Such acquisitions are precious in these days of 
implacable struggle against heresy. God be praised!” 


/ 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS.” 

At the time of this narrative there rose at about the 
middle of St. John of Beauvais Street a large, new house 
built in the simple and graceful style recently imported 
from Italy. Upon a gilt sign, ornamented with the sym¬ 
bolical arms of the University of Paris, and placed imme¬ 
diately over the door, the inscription: Robert Estienne, 
Printer was painted in bold letters. Heavy iron bars 
protected the windows of the ground floor against any bold 
attempts that might be contemplated by the bandits that 
the city was infested with, and the defensive precaution 
was completed by a heavy sheet of iron fastened with heavy 
nails to an already solid and massive door that was sur¬ 
mounted by a sculptured allegory of the Arts and Sciences, 
an elegant piece of work from the chisel of one of the best 
pupils of Primaticio, a celebrated Italian artist whom 
Francis I called to France. The house belonged to Master 
Robert Estienne, the celebrated printer, the worthy 
successor of his father in that learned industry, and one 
of the most erudite men of the century. Profoundly 
versed in the Latin, Greek and Hebrew languages, Master 
Robert Estienne raised the art of printing to a high degree 



54 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


of perfection. Passionately devoted to his art, he lavished 
so much care upon the publications that issued from his 
establishment, that not only did he himself correct the 
proofs of the Latin, Greek and Hebrew works which he 
printed, but he furthermore stuck the revised proofs to 
his office door and kept them there for a certain time with 
the offer of a reward to whomsoever should point out an 
error or blemish. Among the handsomest works published 
by Mlaster Robert Estienne were a Bible and a New Testa¬ 
ment, both translated into French. These two produc¬ 
tions were the admiration of the learned and the source of 
profound uneasiness to the Sorbonne 1 and the clergy, who 
felt as alarmed as irritated to see the press popularize the 
textual knowledge of the holy books that condemned a 
mass of abuses, idolatrous practices and exactions which the 
Church of Rome had for centuries been introducing into 
the Catholic cult. 

Robert Estienne was recently wedded to Perrine Bade, 
a young and handsome woman, the daughter of another 
learned printer, and herself well versed in the Latin. The 
home of Robert Estienne presented the noble example of 
those bourgeois families whose pure morals and virile do¬ 
mestic virtues so strongly contrasted with the prevalent 
corruption of those days. Accused of being a partisan of 
the religious Reformation, and both the Sorbonne and par¬ 
liament, both of which were bound by personal and mate¬ 
rial interests to the Catholic cause, having expressed their 
anger at him, Robert Estienne would long before have been 


*The seat of the University of Paris. 



THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS” 55 

dragged to the pyre as a heretic, but for the powerful pro¬ 
tection of Princess Marguerite of Valois, the sister of 
Francis I, a woman of letters, of daring spirit, a generous 
nature, and w T ithal secretly inclined to the reform. The 
King himself, who loved the arts and letters more out of 
vanity and the desire to imitate the princes of Italy than 
out of true intellectual loftiness, extended his protection 
to Robert Estienne, whom he considered an illustrious 
man whose glory would reflect upon his prince as a Mae¬ 
cenas. His rare mental equipment, his talent, and, last 
not least, the considerable wealth that he had inherited 
from his father and increased by his own labor, had won 
for the celebrated printer numerous and bitter enemies: 
his fellow tradesmen were jealous of the inimitable perfec¬ 
tion of his works: the members of the Sorbonne, of the 
parliament and of the court, among all of whom the King 
and his evil genius, the Cardinal and Chancellor Duprat, 
distributed the goods confiscated from the heretics, had 
many times and oft expected to be about to enrich them¬ 
selves with the plunder of Robert Estienne’s establish¬ 
ment. But ever, thanks to the potent influence of Prin¬ 
cess Marguerite, the printer’s adversaries had remained 
impotent in their machinations against him. Neverthe¬ 
less, knowing but too well how capricious and precarious 
royal favor is, Robert Estienne was ever ready for the 
worst with the serenity of the wise man and the clear con¬ 
science of a man of honor, while the affection of his young 
wife was a source of inexhaustible support in his struggle 
with the evil-minded. 


66 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


The workshop of Master Robert Estienne occupied the 
ground floor of the house. His artisans, all carefully se¬ 
lected by himself, and almost all of whom were the sons 
of workmen w 7 hom his father had employed before him, 
w T ere worthy of the confidence that he reposed in them. 
More than once did they have to repel with arms the as¬ 
saults of fanatical bandits, egged on by the monks, who 
pointed at the printing shop as a hot-bed of diabolical in¬ 
ventions that should be demolished and burned down. The 
populace, ignorant and credulous, rushed upon the house 
of Robert Estienne, and but for the courage displayed by 
the defenders of the establishment, the place would have 
been looted. Due to such possibilities many employers 
felt under the necessity of building around themselves a 
sort of bodyguard composed of their own workmen. The 
famous goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini, whom Francis I in¬ 
vited from Florence to settle in Paris, was in such con¬ 
stant dread of the jealousy of the French and Italian 
artists, that he never went out upon the street without 
being accompanied by several of his pupils, all armed to 
the teeth. And not long ago he had sustained a regular 
siege in the little Castle of Neste of which the King had 
made him a present. The fray lasted two full days; vic¬ 
tory remained with Benvenuto and his private garrison; 
and Francis I was highly amused at the occurrence. Such 
is the order that reigns in the city, such the security en¬ 
joyed by the citizens in these sad days. 

Robert Estienne’s establishment resembled an arsenal 
as much as it did a printing shop. Pikes, arquebuses and 


THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS ” 57 

swords hung near the presses, the composers’ cases or the 
stone tables. Although it was night, Christian remained 
on this evening at the shop; he remained behind upon his 
master’s request, and was waiting for him. The artisan’s 
face, wdiich had borne the marks of worry since the con¬ 
versation that he had with his son Herve on the preceding 
night, now looked cheerful. When Herve returned from 
the Church of St. Dominic, long after the customary hour 
for work to be begun at Master Estienne’s shop, and saw 
his father surprised and displeased at the renewed ab¬ 
sence from work, he said hypocritically: 

“Please do not judge me by appearances; be sure, father, 
that I shall again be worthy of you—you will pardon me 
a fatal slip. I begin to realize the danger of the influence 
that I was blindly yielding to.” 

Saying this, the lad had hastened to make good the lost 
time, and diligently set to work. Shortly after, the con¬ 
versation among the workingmen turned accidentally upon 
the sale of indulgences, which they condemned with re¬ 
newed energ}^. So far from violently taking up the cud¬ 
gels for the nefarious traffic, as he had done on previous 
occasions, Herve remained silent and even looked con¬ 
fused. Christian drew favorable conclusions from his 
son’s embarrassment. 

“Our last night’s conversation must have borne good 
fruit,” thought the artisan to himself; “the poor boy’s 
eyes must have been opened ; he must have realized that 
fanaticism was driving him down into an abyss. Patience! 


58 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


The principles in which I brought him up will win the 
upper hand. I may now hope for the better.” 

When towards the close of the day’s work lie was noti¬ 
fied by Master Estienne that he wished to speak with him, 
and w T as asked to remain behind, Christian told his son 
to inform Bridget of the reason of his anticipated delay, 
in order that she be not alarmed at not seeing him home 
at the usual hour. When lie was finally left alone at the 
shop, he continued the paging of a Latin book by the light 
of a lamp. In the midst of this w r ork he was interrupted 
by one of his friends named Justin, a pressman in the 
shop. Some urgent presswork had kept him in a contig¬ 
uous room. Surprised at finding Christian still at work, 
Justin said: 

“I did not expect to find you here so late, dear com*- 
rade. The hour for rest has sounded.” 

“Master Estienne sent me word asking that I wait for 
him after the shop closed. He wishes to speak with me.” 

“That fits in with my plans. I had meant to call at 
your house this evening and propose a trip for to-morrow 
to Montmartre, in order to visit the place that you know 
of—the more I think of the matter, the more convinced 
am I that we could select no better place for our purpose.” 

“I am inclined to believe you after all the details that 
you have given me upon the matter. But are you quite 
certain that the place offers us all the requisite guarantees 
of secrecy and safety?” 

“In order to convince ourselves fully upon the matter, 
I wdshed to examine the place once more wfith you. It is 


THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS.” * 50 

a iong time since I was there. Maybe the place is no 
longer what it was. Well, shall we make the investigation 
to-morrow evening ?” 

“Y es; I think it is high time for us to set to W’ork, and 
organize our army, Justin! I can see no other means to 
combat our powerful enemies; they seem almost all-pow¬ 
erful. From day to day they become more threatening. 
On their side they have force, numbers, power, audacity, 
the judges, the trained soldiers, the priests, the jailers and 
executioners, moss-grown tradition, the ferocious fanati¬ 
cism of a populace whose mind is poisoned and who are 
misled by the monks. And we, what have we? This,” 
added Christian pointing to a printing press that stood in 
the center of the shop, “that instrument, that lever of irre¬ 
sistible force—thought—the mind ! Courage, my friend! 
Let us, humble soldiers of reason, know how to wait. The 
printing press will change the face of the earth—and all 
our casqued, mitred and crowned tyrants will have seen 
their day! The printing press will be the weapon of eman¬ 
cipation !” 

“As well as you, Christian, I have faith in that future, 
whether it be near or far away. Thought, subtle as light 
itself, will penetrate everywhere. The midnight darkness 
of ignorance will be dispelled, and freedom will dart its 
raj's upon all. Let us to work, Christian. The moment 
we shall have chosen our place, we will put our projects into 
execution. I shall be at your house to-morrow evening. 
The moon will be up late; her light will guide us; and—” 
here Justin interrupted himself saying: “Here is our mas- 


CO 


TUB POCKET BIBLE . 


ter; I shall leave you. Until to-morrow! I shall be 
promptly on time/’ 

“Till to-morrow,” answered Christian as his friend left 
by a door of the shop that opened upon a deserted side 
street. 

Master Robert Estienne, a man of about thirty years of 
age, was of middle size, and of a firm, kind and at once 
serious physiognomy. His eyes sparkled with intelli¬ 
gence ; a few premature lines furrowed his wide forehead; 
study and concentration of mind had begun to thin out his 
hair. He wore a coat and puffed-out hose of black taffeta; 
a white crumpled cap sat upon his head, and seemed fas¬ 
tened under his chin by a light and closely cropped beard 
that ended in a point. 

“Christian,” said Robert Estienne, “I have a service to 
ask of you, a great service.” 

“Speak, Master Estienne; you know the feelings that 
I entertain for your house and all that concerns you; I am 
as devoted to you as my father was to yours. If it pleases 
God,” added the artisan smothering a sigh, “it will be so 
with my son towards yours.” 

“These long-continued relations between our two fam¬ 
ilies honor them both, Christian. It is for that reason 

\ 

that I do not hesitate to ask a great service from you. This 
is the matter: As you know, my house is a thorn in the 
side of my enemies; without mentioning the assault that 
it had to sustain against the wretched fanatics whom the 
monks aroused against it, the place is constantly spied 
upon. The persecutions redouble in number and vehe- 



THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS” 


61 


mence against all those who are suspected of favoring the 
religious Keformation, especially since printed placards 
violently hostile to the Church of Rome were posted over 
night in the streets of Paris. John Morin, the Criminal 
Lieutenant and worthy instrument of Cardinal-Chancellor 
Duprat, who keeps himself informed by the miserable spy 
who goes under the name of Gainier, keeps Paris in a 
state of terror through his police searches. Only the other 
day he issued an order by which the sergeants of the gen¬ 
darmes are empowered at all hours of the day or night to 
search from cellar to garret the residence of whomsoever 
is accused of heresy. I am among these. Despite the pro¬ 
tection of Princess Marguerite, it may happen that, at any 
moment, my domicile is invaded by the lackeys of Du- 
prat’s lieutenant/’ 

“That is unfortunately true; your enemies are power¬ 
ful and numerous.” 

“Well, now, Christian, a man whom I love like my own 
brother, an honorable man, foe to the priests, and pro¬ 
scribed by them, has asked me for asylum. He is here 
since last evening, in hiding. 1 am in constant apprehen¬ 
sion of having my house searched, and my friend’s place 
of refuge discovered. ITis life is at stake.” 

“Great God! I can understand your uneasiness. Your 
friend is, indeed, in great peril.” 

“Driven to this extremity, T determined to turn to you. 
It occurred to me that your happy obscurity saves you 
from the espionage that pursues me. Could you extend 
hospitality to my friend for two or three days, and take 


TEE POCKET BIBLE * 


. 62 

him this very evening to your house? You would be run¬ 
ning no risk.” 

“With all my heart!” 

“I shall never forget this service,” said Master Robert 
Estienne, warmly pressing the artisan’s hand; “I knew I 
could count upon your generosity.” 

“All I wish to remind you of, sir, is that the asylum is 
as humble as it is safe.” 

“The proscribed man has for several months been ac¬ 
customed to travel from city to city; more than once, the 
generous apostle has spent the night in the woods and the 
day in some dark cavern. Any place of refuge is good to 
him.” 

“That being so, I have this proposition to make to you. 
I live, as you know, on the Exchange Bridge; there is a 
garret under the roof of the house; it is so very low one can 
hardly stand in it; but it is sufficiently ventilated by a 
little window that opens upon the river. To-morrow morn- 
ing, after my son and I shall have left the house to come 
to the shop, my wife—I shall have to take her into the 
secret, but I answer for her as for myself—” 

“I know it, Bridget deserves your full confidence; you 
may tell her everything.” 

“Well, then, to-morrow morning, after we shall have 
left the house, my wife will send my daughter on some 
errand or other, and will, during her absence, transport 
to the garret a mattress, some bed linen and whatever else 
may be necessary in order to render the refuge bearable. 
To-night, however, our guest will have to resign himself 



THE U TEST OF THE LUTHERANS” 


63 


to a simple quilt for bedding; but a night is soon over—” 

“That matters little. But how is he to be taken to your 
house to-night without the knowledge of your family? I 
know your domestic habits. Your wife and children are 
now waiting for you to take supper in the ground floor 
room, the door of which opens on the bridge. They will 
all see you come in with the stranger. Then also, it occurs 
to me, does not your wife’s brother, the old Franc-Taupin, 
join you almost every evening at meals? That is an ad¬ 
ditional difficulty to be overcome.” 

“That is true; and I do not intend to take him into the 
secret, although his faults—and these are numerous with 
the poor soldier of adventure—are wholly counterbalanced 
in my eyes by his devotion to my family; he fairly wor¬ 
ships his sister and her children.” 

“How, then, shall we manage this evening?” 

“I shall take the proscribed man to my house as an old 
friend whom I met and invited to supper. As customary, 
my son and daughter will withdraw to their rooms after 
the meal, and my wife, her brother the Franc-Taupin, if 
he calls this evening, and I will remain alone with my 
guest. I shall then request my wife’s brother to go out for 
a pot of wine in order that we close the day pleasantly. 
The w r ine is sold at a tavern near the wharf and at some 
little distance from my house. I shall profit by the Franc- 
Taupin’s absence in order to apprize my wife in a few 
words of the secret; my guest will go up into the garret; 
and when my brother-in-law returns I shall tell him that 
our guest feared it would grow too late, and left, request- 


64 TEE POCKET BIBLE. 

ing me to present his regards to the Franc-Taupin and bid 
him adien. As you see, the matter can be safely and se¬ 
cretly arranged/’ 

“Yes, very well. But, Christian, there is a matter that 
I must seriously call your attention to. It is not an im¬ 
possible thing that, despite all your precautions, the pro¬ 
scribed man may be discovered in your house by the police 
of Duprat’s lieutenant; it is my duty to remind you that, 
in such an event, you run the risk of imprisonment, per¬ 
haps even of a severer, more terrible punishment; remem¬ 
ber that justice can not be relied upon in these days. The 
ecclesiastical tribunals are implacable; it is with them— 
torture or death.” 

“Master Estienne, do you think me accessible to fear?” 

“No, I know your devotion to me. But I wish you to 
feel sure that were it not for the strictness of the surveil¬ 
lance that is kept over my house, and that renders it im¬ 
possible for me to offer asylum to the friend whom I en¬ 
trust to you, I would not then expose you to dangers that 
I would otherwise be anxious myself to brave. I first 
thought of hiding him in my cottage at St. Ouen; that 
country-seat is secluded and far enough from the village. 
But for several reasons that I am not yet free to commu¬ 
nicate to you, my friend should remain hidden in the very 
heart of Paris. I repeat it, Christian: if, however improb¬ 
able, it should betide that you are put to trouble, if harm 
should come to you by reason of the service that you will 
have rendered me, your wife and your children will find 
protection and support in my family.” 


THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS” 65 

J 

“Master Estienne, I shall never forget that my father, 
laboring under the shameless calumnies of the successor 
of the printer John Saurin, would have himself and his 
family died of hunger and despair but for the generous 
assistance of your father. Whatever I may do, never could 
I pay that debt of gratitude to you and yours. My modest 
havings and myself are at your disposal.” 

“My father acted like an upright man, that was all; but 
if you absolutely insist upon considering yourself in our 
debt, your noble assistance in this instance will be to us 
one more proof of your gratitude. But I have not yet told 
you all, worthy Christian. Yielding no doubt to a feel¬ 
ing of delicacy, you have not asked me in behalf of whom 
1 solicited asylum w r ith you.” 

“The proscribed man is worthy of your friendship; he 
is an apostle, Master Estienne; need I know more ?” 

“Without imparting to you a secret that is not mine, I 
feel free to inform you that this proscribed man is the 
bravest of the apostles of the Reformation. I owe only to 
your personal attachment the service that you render to me, 
seeing that, in granting asylum to my friend,you are not yet 
aware whether you are in accord with his ideas. Your 
generous action is dictated by your affection towards me 
and mine; in my turn, I now contract a debt of gratitude 
towards you and yours. And once upon this subject, 
Christian,” added Master Estienne in penetrating accents, 
“allow me frankly to state my thoughts to you with re¬ 
spect to your son. We have recently talked more than 


66 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


once upon the worry that he caused you; I regret the cir¬ 
cumstance doubly; I expected great things from Herve. 
He has developed a variety of aptitudes in other direc¬ 
tions besides the mechanical part of our art in which he 
begins to excel. The lad’s precocious knowledge, his ex¬ 
ceptional eloquence—all these qualities ranked him in my 
eye among that small number of men who are destined to 
shine in whatever career they embrace. Finally, that which 
enhanced with me Herve’s intellectual powers was the 
goodness of his heart and the straightforwardness of his 
character. But his habits have latterly become irregular; 
his one-time affectionate, open and communicative nature 
has undergone a change. I have hitherto refrained from 
letting him perceive the grief that his conduct caused me. 
In the midst of all this I imagine he has preserved some, 
love and respect for me. Would you authorize me to have 
a serious and paternal conversation with him? It may 
have a salutary effect.” 

“I thank you, Master Estienne, for your kind offer. I 
am glad to be able to say that I have reasons to think that 
since to-day my son has turned to better thoughts; that a 
sudden and happy change has come over him, because—” 
Christian could not finish his sentence. Madam Estienne, 
a handsome young woman of a sweet and grave counte¬ 
nance, precipitately entered the shop and handing to her 
husband an open letter said to him .in a moved voice: 

“Read, my friend; as you will see, there is not a minute 


67 


THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS.” 

to lose;” and turning aside to Christian: “Can we count 
with you?” 

“Absolutely and in all things, madam.” 

“There is no longer any doubt!” cried Master Estienne 
after he read the letter. “Our house will be searched, this 
very night perhaps; they are on my friend’s tracks.” 

“I shall run for him,” said Madam Estienne; “Chris¬ 
tian and he will go out by the side street. I think the 
house is watched on the St. John of Beauvais Street side.” 

“Master Estienne,” said the artisan to his employer, “in 
order to make assurance doubly sure I shall go down to 
the end of the side alley and reconnoiter whether the pas¬ 
sage is clear; I shall explore it thoroughly.” 

“Go, my friend, you will find us in the small yard with 
the proscribed man.” 

Christian left the shop, crossed the small yard, drew the 
bolt of a door that opened into the side alley and stepped 
out. He found the lane completely deserted, from end to 
end not a soul was in sight. Although it was night there 
was light enough to see a long distance ahead. Having 
convinced himself that the issue was safe, Christian re¬ 
turned to the door of the yard where he found Master Es¬ 
tienne pressing in his own the hand of a man of middle 
size and clad in plain black. 

“Master Estienne,” said Christian to his employer, “the 
alley is deserted; we can go out without being seen by 
anyone.” 

“Adieu, my friend ” said Master Estienne in a trem¬ 
bling voice to the proscribed man. “Ton may rely upon 


68 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


your guide as upon me. Follow him and observe all that 
he may recommend to you for your safety. May heaven 
protect your precious life!” 

“Adieu! Adieu !” answered the unknown who seemed 
to be no less moved than the printer; saying which he fol¬ 
lowed Christian. After issuing from the alley and walk¬ 
ing for a while in the direction of the Exchange Bridge, 
the two men arrived at a gate which they had to pass in 
order to cross the Cour-Dieu. At that place their progress 
was delayed by a compact mass of people who were gath¬ 
ered near the gate, in the center of which was a turnstile 
intended to keep horses and wagons from entering the 
square. Many patrolmen were seen among the crowd. 

“What is the meaning of this gathering ?” inquired 
Christian from a man of athletic carriage, with the sleeves 
of his shirt turned up, a blood-bespattered apron and a 
long knife by his side. 

“St. James!” exclaimed the butcher in a tone of pious 
satisfaction; “the reverend Franciscan fathers of the Cour- 
Dieu have been struck by a good idea.” 

“In what way?” again Christian asked. “WTiat is their 
idea? Inform us of what is going on.” 

“The good monks have placed upon the square in front 
of the door of their convent a lighted chapel at the foot 
of a beautiful station of the Holy Virgin, and a mendi¬ 
cant monk stands on either side of the statue, with a club 
in one hand and a purse in the other—” 

“And what is the purpose of the chapel and the mendi¬ 
cant monks and their clubs?” 


THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS.” 


69 


“St. James !” and the butcher crossed himself; “thanks 
to that chapel the Lutheran dogs can be discovered as they 
pass by.” 

“How can they be recognized?” 

“If they pass before the chapel without kneeling down 
at the feet of the Holy Virgin, and without dropping a 
piece of money into the purse of the mendicant monks, it 
is a proof that the painim are heretics—they are imme¬ 
diately set upon, they are slain, they are torn to shreds. 
Listen ! Do you hear that ?” 

Indeed, at that moment, piercing shrieks half drowned 
by an angry roar of many voices went up from the in¬ 
terior of the Cour-Dieu. As the turnstile allowed a pas¬ 
sage to only one person at a time, the approaches of the 
square were blocked by a crowd that swelled from moment 
to moment and that was swayed with the ardent desire to 
witness the Test of the Lutherans , as the process was called. 
Every time that the cries of a victim ceased, the clamor 
subsided, and the mob awaited the next execution. The 
butcher resumed: 

“That painim has ceased to scream—his account is set¬ 
tled. May the fire of St. Anthony consume those laggards 
who are getting so slowly through the gate! I shall not be 
able to witness the killing of a single one of those accursed 
fellows!” 

“My friend,” said the mysterious companion of Chris¬ 
tian to the butcher, “those Lutherans must be very great 
criminals, are they not? I ask you because I am a stranger 
here—” 


70 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


A score of voices charitably hastened to answer the un¬ 
known man, who, together with Christian was so com¬ 
pletely hemmed in by the crowd that the}’’ had no choice 
but patiently to wait for their turn at the turnstile. 

“Poor man, where do you come from?” said some, ad¬ 
dressing the unknown. “What! You ask whether the 
Lutherans are criminals? Why, they are infamous bri¬ 
gands !” 

And thereupon they vied with one another in citing the 
felonies that the reformers were guilty of: 

“They read the Bible in French!” 

“They do not confess!” 

“They do not sing mass!” 

“They believe neither in the Pope, nor the saints, nor 
in the virginity of Mary, nor in holy relics!” 

“Nor in the blood of our Savior!—nor in the drop of 
milk of his holy mother!—nor in the miraculous tooth of 
St. Loup!” 

“And what do those demons substitute for the holy 
mass ? Abominable incantations and orgies!” 

“Yes, yes—it is so!” 

“I, who now speak to you, knew the son of a tailor who 
was once caught in the net of those ministers of the devil. 
Fll tell you what he saw—he told me all about it the next 
day. The Lutherans assembled at night—at midnight— 
in a large cave, men, young girls and women to celebrate 
their Lutliery. A rich bourgeois woman, who lived on the 
same street with the tailor attended the incantation with 
her two daughters. When all the canting hypocrites were 


THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS.” 71 

assembled, their priest donned a robe of goatskin with a 
headgear of spreading oxhorns; he then took a little child, 
spread the poor little fellow upon a table lighted by two 
tall wax candles, and, while the other heretics sang their 
psalms in French, interspersed with magical invocations, 
their priest cut the child’s throat!” 

“The assassins! The monsters! The demons!” 

“The priest of Lucifer thereupon gathered the child’s 
blood in a vase and sprinkled the assembly with the warm 
gore! He then tore out the child’s heart and ate it up! 
That closed the celebration of the Luthery.” 

“Holy St. James, and shall we not bleed these sons of 
Satan to the last man?” cried the butcher, carrying his 
hand to his knife, while the proscribed man exchanged 
significant glances with Christian and remarked to those 
standing near him: 

“Can such monstrosities be possible? Could such things 
have happened?” 

“Whether they are possible! Why, Brother St. Law- 
rence-on-the-gridiron, a reverend Carmelite who is my 
confessor, told me, Marotte, there never was an assembly 
of those heretics held without at least one or two little 
children being sacrificed.” 

“Jesus, God! Everybody knows that,” pursued the first 
narrator; “the tailor’s son that I am talking about wit¬ 
nessed the heretical orgy; he saw everything with his own 
eyes; then, after the Lutherans had been sprinkled with 
the child’s blood as a sort of baptism, their priest spoke 
up and said: ‘Now, take off your clothes, and pray to God 


72 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


in our fashion. Long live hell and the Luthery P As soon 
as he said this, he put out the two wax candles, whereupon 
all the he and she canting hypocrites, with as much cloth¬ 
ing on as Adam and Eve, men, women and young girls, 
all thrown helter-skelter in the dark—well, you under¬ 
stand—it is an abomination!” 1 

“What a horror! Malediction upon them!” 

“Mercy! May God protect us from such heretics!” 

“Confession! Such infamies portend the end of the 
world!” 

“Brother St. Lawrence-on-the-gridiron, the reverend 
Carmelite friar, my confessor, told me, Marotte, that all 
the Lutheries closed in the same fashion. The good father 
felt so indignant that he gave me accurate details upon 
the devilish heretics; they were details that made my 
cheeks burn red and hot like a piece of coal.” 

These snatches of reports, that summed up the stupid 
and atrocious calumnies spread about by the monks against 
the reformers, were interrupted by new shrieks and vocif¬ 
erations that went up from the Cour-Dieu. Listening 
with secret disgust and silent indignation to the calum¬ 
nious indignities that were huckstered about by an ignorant 
and credulous populace, Christian and the unknown man 
in his charge had followed the stream of the crowd, and 
presently found themselves under the vault of the gate 
that led to the square, whence they could take in at a 
glance what was happening there. A sort of altar lighted 
with wax candles rose in front of the main entrance to the 

1 For these horrible calumnies Reformation, see De Thou, vol. I, 
spread by the clergy against the book II, p. 97. 


/ 





THE “TEST OF THE LUTHERANS” 78 

I 

Franciscan Convent; a life-sized statue of the Virgin 
wrought in wood and gorgeously attired in a robe of gold 
brocade and with her face painted like a picture, surmount¬ 
ed the altar. Several Franciscan monks, among whom 
Christian recognized Fra Girard were stationed near the 
lighted chapel. Two of them, holding large velvet purses 
in their hands, were posted one on either side of the statue. 
A large crowd of tattered men and women of cynical, re¬ 
pulsive or brutal countenances, all armed with clubs and 
grouped near the door of the convent, stood waiting for 
the moment when, at a signal from the monks, they were 
to rush upon the ill-starred passer-by who was designated 
as suspected of heresy. Each passer-by had inevitably to 
cross the square at only a slight distance from the statue of 
the Virgin. If they knelt down before it and dropped 
their alms into the purse of the mendicant friars, no dan¬ 
ger threatened them. But if they failed to fulfil this act 
of devotion, the ferocious band that stood in waiting would 
be let loose at the signal from the monks, and would rush 
upon the Lutheran, beat him with their sticks, and not in¬ 
frequently leave him lying dead upon the square. All the 
persons who were just ahead of Christian and the un¬ 
known man proceeded straight to the altar, and either out 
of fear or out of piety knelt down before the image of the 
Virgin and then rose and deposited their offerings in the 
purse held out by the Franciscans. A man, still young 
but frail and short of stature, behind whom Christian 
stood, said to himself in an undertone just as he was about 
to thread the turnstile and emerge into the square: 


74 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“I am a Catholic, but by the blood of God! I prerfer 
to be cut to pieces rather than submit to such extortion. 
May the devil take the monks !” 

“You will be wrong,” said Christian to him in a low 
voice. “I revolt as much as you at the indignity. But 
what is to be done against force ? Submit to the ignominy.'” 

“I shall protest at the peril of my life! Such excesses 
dishonor religion/ 5 the man answered Christian, and step¬ 
ping out of the gate into the square with a firm step, he 
crossed the place without turning his head in the direction 
of the altar. Hardly, however, had he passed by when the 
tattered mob who stood near the monks, ready at the lat- 
ters 5 beck, rushed forward in pursuit of the unhappy fel¬ 
low; they overtook him, surrounded, and bawled at him: 
“Heretic!” “Lutheran!” “He insults the image of the 
mother of the Savior!” “Down on your knees!” “The cant¬ 
ing hypocrite!” “Down on your knees!” “Death to the 
heretic!” 

While these fanatics surrounded their victim, Christian 
said to his companion: 

“Let us profit by the tumult to escape from these fero¬ 
cious beasts; unfortunately it were idle to seek to snatch 
that senseless but stout-hearted man from the clutches of 
his assailants.” 

Christian and the unknown man in turn stepped out of 
the gate into the square and were hurriedly walking to¬ 
wards the opposite issue without stopping at the altar 
when, being caught sight of by the monks, the latter cried 
out: 


THE “TEST OP THE LUTHERANS” 75 

“There go two other heretics! They are trying to es¬ 
cape without kneeling before the holy Virgin ! Stop them! 
Bring them back and make them empty their purses !” 

The voices of the Franciscans did not reach the ears of 
the demoniac pack, greedy as it was for its prey; they 
emitted savage yells as they beat to death, not a heretic, 
but a Catholic, whose sin consisted in refusing to submit 
to an adoration imposed upon him in a brutal manner, 
and which he otherwise would cheerfully have complied 
with. After the unhappy fellow had bravely defended 
himself with his cane, the only weapon that he carried, 
he was finally overwhelmed by numbers and fell livid, 
bleeding, and almost unconscious upon the pavement. A 
•horrid-looking shrew seized him by the hair and while she 
dragged the almost lifeless body towards the altar other 
dastards from the dregs of the mob struck him in the face 
with their feet. 

“Mercy!” cried the unhappy fellow in a faint voice. 
“Jesus!—My God!—Have pity upon me!—They are mur¬ 
dering a good Catholic!” 

These were the brave fellow’s last words. His voice was 
soon heard no more. The butcher with whom Christian 
had exchanged a few words ran towards and joined the 
assassin mob. He piously knelt down before the statue 
of the Virgin, then rose, drew his knife, and brandishing 
it in the air cried: 

“St. James! Let me bleed the damned Lutheran! It 


76 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


will be worth an indulgence to me! You know, bleeding 
is my profession!” 

The sanguinary sally was received with loud outbursts 
of laughter; room was made for the butcher near the bleed¬ 
ing body; he squatted upon its still palpitating chest, 
slashed his knife through the prostrate man’s throat, cut 
the head from the trunk, seized it by the hair, and, holding 
up the shocking trophy to the gaze of the mob, he cried 
with wild ecstasy: 

“The h< retie dog would not bow down before the mother 
of the Savior—he shall now plant his forehead on the 
pavement at her feet!” 

So said, so done. Followed by the demented band at 
his heels, the butcher ran back to the altar, holding the 
livid head in his hands, red and streaming with the warm 
blood of the victim; he knelt down himself, and slammed 
the head face down upon the ground at the feet of Mary, 
amidst the savage acclaim of his fellow assassins, all of 
whom piously threw themselves down upon their knees like 
himself. 

“Oh, monsieur, this is frightful!” murmured Christian 
suffocating for breath as his companion and he stepped 
out of the square. “To think that such horrors are per¬ 
petrated in the name of the benign mother of Christ! Oh, 
the wretches, as stupid as they are bloodthirsty!” 

“Ignorance, misery and fanaticism!—that is their ex¬ 
cuse. Let us not blame these unhappy people; they are 


THE <( TEST OF THE LUTHERANS ” 


77 


what the monks have made them,” answered the unknown 
with a bitter and desolate smile. “Oh, these monks, the«e 
monks! When will society be finally purged of the in¬ 
fernal breed!” 

Christian and his companion hastened their steps to¬ 
wards the artisan’s house, nor dared they to turn and look 
behind. 


CHAPTER V. 


MONSIEUR JOHN. 

“Fear not; I have a certain means of regaining the good 
graces of my family’’—such were among the last words 
said by Herv6 to Fra Girard as they stepped out of the 
Church of St. Dominic, where he purchased the letter of 
indulgence that absolved him in advance from all his fu¬ 
ture misdeeds. Herve was, alas! true to his promise. Back 
long in advance of his father that evening under the pa¬ 
ternal roof, he pursued his plan of infernal hypocrisy, and 
succeeded in awaking in his mother’s breast the same hopes 
for the better that he awoke in the breast of Christian. 
Seeing Herve pray her feelingly to suspend her judgment 
with regard to himself on the theft that he was suspected 
of; seeing him admit that, however late, he now realized 
the fatal effect of a dangerous influence over himself; 
finally, seeing her son respond with unexpected effusive¬ 
ness to the affectionate greeting of his sister, Bridget said 
to herself, as Christian had done: “Let us hope; Herve 
is returning to better sentiments; the painful conversation 
of last night has borne its fruit; our remonstrances have 
had a salutary effect upon him; the principles that we have 
inculcated in him, will regain their sway. Let us hope!” 


tiONSIEVR JOHN . 


79 

With a heart, now as brimful of joy as it was of dis¬ 
tress on the previous evening, the happy mother busied 
herself with preparing the evening meal. No less joyful 
than Bridget at the return of Herve’s tenderness, Hena 
was radiant with happiness, and the sentiment enhanced 
her beauty. Barely in her seventeenth year, lithesome and 
generously built, the young girl wore her golden-blonde 
hair braided in two strands coiled over her head and 
crowning her blooming cheeks. The gentleness of her fea¬ 
tures, that were of angelic beauty, would have inspired the 
divine Raphael Sanzio. White as a lily, she had a lily’s 
chaste splendor; candor and kindness stood out clear in 
the azure of her eyes. Often did those eyes rest upon that 
naughty yet so dearly beloved brother, of whom the poor 
child had feared she was disliked. Seated beside him, and 
engaged at some needle-work, she now felt herself, as in 
former days, filled with sweet confidence in Herve, while 
the latter, once more affectionate and jovial as ever before, 
entertained himself pleasantly with his sister. By a tacit 
accord, neither made any allusion to the recent and pain¬ 
ful past, and chatted as familiarly as if their fraternal in¬ 
timacy had never suffered the slightest jar. Despite his 
self-control and profound powers of dissimulation, Herve 
was ill at ease; he felt the necessity of speaking, and 
sought distraction in the sound of words in order to es¬ 
cape the obsession of his secret thoughts. He rambled at 
haphazard from one subject to the other. Brother and 
sister were thus engaged as Bridget absented herself for a 


80 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


moment on the floor above in pursuit of some household 
duty. 

“Herve,” the young girl was saying to her brother, 
thoughtfully, “your account interests me greatly. How old 
would you take that monk to be?” 

“I could not tell; perhaps twenty-five.” 

“He had a face that was at once handsome, sad and 
benign, did he not? His beard is of a somewhat lighter 
hue than his auburn hair; his eyes are black, and he is 
very pale; he has a sympathetic countenance.” 

While thus chatting with her brother, Hena proceeded 
to sew and could not notice the expression of surprise that 
Herve’s face betrayed. His feelings notwithstanding, he 
answered : 

“That is a very accurate description. One must have 
observed a person very attentively in order to preserve so 
life-like a picture of him. But what induces you to be¬ 
lieve that the monk in question is the handsome auburn- 
haired monk, whose picture you have just sketched?” 

“Why, did you not just tell me, dear brother, that you 
recently witnessed a touching action of which a monk was 
the author? Well, it struck me that probably he was the 
fri:.r that I described. But proceed with the story.” 

“But who is that monk ? Where did you see him ? How 
did you happen to know him?” Herve interrogated his 
sister in short, set words, inspired by an ill-suppressed 
agonizing feeling of jealousy. The naive girl, however, 
mistaking the sentiment that prompted her brother’s ques¬ 
tion, answered him merrily: 




MONSIEUR JOHN. 


81 


“Oh! Oh! Seigneur Herve, you are very inquisitive. 
First finish your story; I shall tell you afterwards.” 

Affecting a pleasant tone, Herve replied as he cast upon 
his sister a sharp and penetrating look: “Oh! Oh! Made¬ 
moiselle Hena, you twit me with being inquisitive, but, it 
seems to me, that you are no less so. Never mind, I shall 
accommodate you. Well, as I was saying, when passing 
this morning by the porch of St. Merry’s Church, I saw 
a crowd gathered, and I inquired the reason. I was an¬ 
swered that a babe, six months old at the most, had been 
left over night at the portal of the church.” 

“Poor little creature!” 

“At that moment a young monk parted the crowd, took 
up the child in his arms, and with tears in his eyes and his 
face marked with touching compassion, he warmed with 
his breath the numb hands of the poor little waif, wrapped 
the baby carefully in one of the long sleeves of his robe, 
and disappeared as happy as if he carried away a treasure. 
The crowd applauded, and I heard some people around me 
say that the monk belonged to the Order of the Augustin- 
ians and was called Brother St. Ernest-Martyr.” 

“Why ‘Martyr’—and he so charitable?” 

“You do not seem to know, sister, that when taking or¬ 
ders a monk renounces his family names and assumes the 
name of some saint—such as St. Peter-in-bonds, or St. 
Sebastian-pierced-with-arrows, or St. Lawrence-on-the- 
gridiron, or St. Anthony-with-the-pig—” 

“Oh, what mournful names! They make one shudder. 
But the last one is really grotesque.” 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


82 

“Well,” proceeded Herve, without detaching his prying 
eyes from Hena, “Brother St. Ernest-Martyr was hastily 
walking away with his precious burden when I heard some¬ 
one remark: 

“ ‘I am quite sure the good monk will take the poor lit¬ 
tle one to Mary La Catelle’—” 

“I thought so!” exclaimed Hena ingenuously; “I knew 
it was he; it is my monk!” 

“How, your monk?” asked Bridget smiling, her heart 
dilating with joy as she descended the stairs and saw her 
son and daughter engaged in cordial conversation as was 
their former wont. “Of what monk are you talking, Hena, 
with so much unction?” 

“Do you not know, mother, La Catelle and her school? 
Do you remember that charming woman?” 

“Certainly, I do. I remember the young widow Mary La 
Catelle. The school that she founded for poor children is 
a work of touching charity, which, however, also owes a 
good deal to John Dubourg, the linen draper of St. Denis 
Street, and to another rich bourgeois, Monsieur Laforge. 
They both generously sustain La Catelle and her sister 
Martha, the wife of Poille, the architect, who shares with 
her the maternal cares that she bestows upon poor orphans 
whom she takes up in her house—a place which has justly 
earned the name of The house of God’.” 

“Do you remember, mother,” Hena proceeded with her 
reminiscences, “that when we went to the house of La 
Catelle, it happened to be school hour ?” 

“Yes, an Augustinian monk was instructing a group of 


MONSIEUR JOHN. 


83 


children who stood around him or sat at his feet, and some 
were seated on his knees.” 

“Well mother, I listened to the monk as he was ex¬ 
plaining to the children the parable of: ‘Wicked are they 
who live on the milk of a sheep, who clothe themselves in 
her fleece, and yet leave the poor beast without pasture/ 
He uttered upon that subject words imprinted with such 
sweet and tender charity, and yet so easy for the intelli¬ 
gence of children to grasp, that tears came to my eyes.” 

“And I shared your sister’s emotion, Herve,” replied 
Bridget, addressing her son, who, silent and absorbed in 
his own thoughts, had dropped out of the conversation. 
“You can not imagine with what charming benignity the 
young monk instructed those little ones; he measured his 
words to their intelligence, in order to indoctrinate them 
with the simple and pure evangelical morality. Mary La 
Catelle assured us that his knowledge was no less than his 
virtue.” 

Two raps at the street door from without interrupted 
the conversation. 

“At last!” said Bridget to Herve. “This is surely your 
father. The streets are not quite safe at night. I prefer 
to see him indoors. I hardly think we shall see my brother 
this evening. The hour for supper is long gone by,” ob¬ 
served Bridget, stepping towards her husband, to whom 
Herve had opened the house door. 

Christian came in accompanied with the unknowm per¬ 
sonage, a young man of, however, a striking countenance 
by reason of its expression of deliberate firmness. His 


I 


84 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


black eyes, instinct with intelligence and fire, were set so 
close that they imparted a singular character to his pale 
and austere visage. At the sight of the unexpected visitor 
Bridget made a gesture of surprise. 

“Dear wife,” said Christian, “I have brought Monsieur 
John along for supper. He is an old friend whom I acci¬ 
dentally met to-day.” 

“He is welcome to our house,” answered Bridget, while 
the two children looked at the stranger with curiosity. As 
was her custom, Hena embraced her father affectionately; 
but Herve, looking at him with a timid and repentant eye, 
seemed doubtful whether to follow his sister’s example. 
The artisan opened his arms to his son and whispered in 
his ear as he pressed him to his heart: 

“I have not forgotten your fair promises of this morn¬ 
ing,” and turning to his guest: “This is my family—my 
daughter is an embroiderer, like her mother; my eldest 
son is, like myself, a printer in Monsieur Robert Estienne’s 
workshop; my second son, who is apprenticed to an ar¬ 
morer, is now traveling in Italy. Thanks to God our chil¬ 
dren are wise and industrious, and deserve to be loved 
as my worthy wife and I love them.” 

“May the blessing of God continue upon your family,” 
answered Monsieur John in an affectionate voice, while 
Hena and her brother arranged the covers and set upon 
the table the dishes that had been prepared for the family 
meal. 

“Bridget,” said Christian, “where is your brother?” 

“I had just been wondering at his absence, my friend; I 


MONSIEUR JOHN. 


85 


would feel uneasy, if it were not that I rely upon his brav¬ 
ery, his long sword—in short, upon his general appearance, 
which is not exactly attractive to sneaking night thieves/* 
added Bridget with a smile. “Neither Tire-Laines nor 
Guilleris will be very anxious to attack a Franc-Taupin. 
We need not wait for him; if he comes he will know how 
to make up for lost time at table, and will take double 
mouthfuls.” 

The family and their guest sat down to table, with Mon¬ 
sieur John placed between Christian and Bridget. Ad¬ 
dressing her, he said: 

“Such order and exquisite propriety reigns in this 
house, madam, that the housekeeper deserves to be com¬ 
plimented.” 

“Household duties are a pleasure to me and to my daugh¬ 
ter, monsieur; order and cleanliness are the only luxuries 
that we, poor people, can indulge in.” 

“Sancta simplicitas!” said the stranger, and he proceed¬ 
ed with a smile: “It is a good and old motto—Holy sim¬ 
plicity. You will pardon me, madam, for having spoken 
in Latin. It was an oversight on my part.” 

“By the way of Latin,” put in the artisan, addressing 
his wife, “did Lefevre drop in during the day ?” 

“No, my friend; I am as much surprised as yourself at 
the increasing rareness of his calls; formerly few were the 
days that he did not visit us; perhaps he is sick, or absent 
from Paris. I shall inquire after him to-morrow.” 

“Lefevre is a learned Latinist,” said Christian, address¬ 
ing Monsieur John; “he is one of my oldest friends; he 


86 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


teaches at the University. He is a rough and tough moun¬ 
taineer from Savoy. But under his rude external appear¬ 
ance beats an excellent heart. We think very highly of 
him.” 

Christian was about to proceed when he was interrupted 
by the following ditty that came from the street, and was 
sung by a sonorous voice: 

“A Franc-Taupin had an ash-tree how, 

All eaten with worms, and all knotted its cord; 

His arrow was made out of paper, and plumed, 

And tipped at the end with a capon’s spur. 

Dcrideron, vignetle on vignon! Derider on!” 

/ 

“It is uncle! His favorite song announces him!” said 
Hena joyfully, as she rose to open the house-door. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE FRANC-TAUPIN. 

Josephin, Bridget’s brother, surnamed Tocquedillon the 
Franc-Taupin, stepped into the room. A soldier of adven¬ 
ture since his fifteenth year, he had run away from the 
paternal home, and soon thereafter enrolled with the Franc- 
Taupins, a sort of irregular militia, whose duty it was to 
dig the trenches intended to cover the approaches of the 
assailants at the siege of a city. These mercenary soldiers 
were named “Franc-Taupins” because, like the franc arch¬ 
ers, they were “frank” or free from taxation, and because 
their underground work bore great resemblance to that of 
the taupe —mole. Once out of their trenches, the saying 
was, the Franc-Taupins displayed but little courage. 
Whether justly or unjustly, the poltroonery of the Franc- 
Taupin became proverbial, as evidenced by the favorite 
song of Bridget’s brother. This personage, however, was 
anything but a poltroon. Just the reverse. After he had 
twice or three times turned up the earth at as many sieges, 
he disdained to belong to a corps of such cowardly renown, 
and enrolled in another irregular militia, one that stood 
in general dread—the Adventurers or Pendards, of whom 


88 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


a contemporaneous writer drew the following and, unfor¬ 
tunately, but too truthful picture: 

“What a vagabond, flagitious, murderous set are these 
Pendards! They are deniers of God, ravishing wolves, 
violators of women, devourers of the people! They drive 
the good man out of his house, empty his pot of wine and 
sleep in his bed. Their garb matches their disorderly hab¬ 
its. They wear shirts with long sleeves, open in front and 
exposing their hirsute chests; their streaked hose do not 
cover their flesh; their calves are left bare and they carry 
their socks in their belts for fear of wearing them out. 
Poultry trembles in the hen-coops at their approach, and 
so does bacon in the pantry. Brawling, roistering, auda¬ 
cious, ever with their mouths wide open, they love noth¬ 
ing better than to guzzle in company the wine that they 
have jointly stolen.” 

Despite his intrepidity in war, and without resembling 
at all points this picture of the Pendards, Tocquedillon the 
Franc-Taupin, preserved strong features of the same. For 
all that, however, he adored, venerated his sister, and from 
the moment that he sat down at her hearth he would seem 
metamorphosed. Nothing in either his words or his con¬ 
duct would then recall the audacious adventurer. Timid, 
affectionate, realizing how unbecoming the slang of the 
tavern or of even worse places would be in the presence of 
Bridget’s children, of whom he was as fond as of her her¬ 
self, he always controlled himself and never uttered in 
their presence any but decorous language. For Christian 
he had as much love as respect. As the saying goes, he 


THE FRANC-TAUPIN. 


89 


would have gone through fire for the family. The Franc- 
Taupin was at this time about thirty years of age; he was 
lean, bony and about six feet high. Scarred with innum¬ 
erable wounds, and partly blinded in battle, he wore a large 
black patch over his left eye. He kept his hair close crop¬ 
ped, his beard cut into a point under his chin, and h.is 
moustache twisted upward. His nose was pimply through 
excessive indulgence in wine, and his thick-lipped mouth, 
slit from ear to ear, exposed two rows of desultory shark’s 
teeth every time that, as a true roisterer, he gave a loose 
to his imperturbable mirthfulness. 

The moment he stepped into the room, the Franc-Taupin 
deposited his old and weather-beaten sword in a corner, 
embraced his sister and her two children, shook hands cor¬ 
dially with Christian, bowed respectfully to the unknown 
man, and timidly took his usual place at the family table. 

Christian came to the relief of his brother-in-law’s em¬ 
barrassment and said to him jovially: 

“We would have felt uneasy at your absence, Josephin, 

% 

if we did not know that you are of those who, with their 
swords at their side, defy the world and are able to defend 
themselves against all assailants.” 

“Oh, brother, the best sword in the world will not pro¬ 
tect one against a surprise; the surprise that I have just 
experienced has knocked me down. As my surprise tastes 
strongly of salt, I am dying with thirst—allow me to empty 
a cup.” After his cup was emptied the Franc-Taupin 
proceeded with a scared look: “By the bowels of St. Quenet, 
what did I see! I’m quite certain that I am not deceived; 


90 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


1 have only one eye left, but it is good for two. By all the 
devils, I saw him! 1 saw him distinctly! A singular 

encounter!” 

“Whom did you see, Josepliin?” 

“I saw, just now, just before nightfall, here, in Paris, 
Captain Don Ignatius Loyola, a Spanish nobleman—a 
devil of a lighter and an inveterate lover of amorous ad¬ 
ventures—a terrible man.” 

At the mentioning of Ignatius Loyola’s name the guest 
at Christian’s table shuddered, while Christian himself 
asked the Franc-Taupin: 

“But who is that Spanish captain the sight of whom in 
Paris affects you so greatly?” 

“Did you really know the man ?” inquired Monsieur 
John in an accent of deep interest. “Did you know Ig¬ 
natius Loyola personally?” 

“I should think I did! I was his page.” 

“And so, Loyola was a captain ?” again inquired Monsieur 
John, more and more interested in what the Franc-Taupin 
said. “You must, theig have some information on the 
man’s life, his character, his habits. Please tell us some¬ 
thing about him.” 

“By the bowels of St. Quenet! I w T as continuously with 
him for three whole months! By all the devils, I never 
left his side, either day or night!” 

“What were his morals?” 

“Oh! Oh! friend guest, I would not like to answer that 
question in my sister’s presence—it is too racy a story.” 

“Friend Christian,” said Monsieur John, “I notice that 


THE FRANC-TAUPIX. 


91 


you are surprised at my curiosity concerning the Spanish 
captain. You will some day understand that the infor¬ 
mation in question interests you as well. It will be an 
interesting history for you to know.” 

“Hena, Herve,” said the artisan, “supper is nearly end¬ 
ed, my children; it is growing late; you may retire.” 

“And I,” put in Bridget, “have some embroidery to fin¬ 
ish; I shall go upstairs and work at it with Hena; I shall 
come dowm later and put away the dishes. You can call 
for me, Christian, if you need anything. You and Josephin 
can entertain our guest.” 

Herve embraced his father with an affectation of in¬ 
creased tenderness, and withdrew to his bedroom; Bridget 
and her daughter went upstairs. The unknown man and 
Christian remained alone with the Franc-Taupin, and the 
latter proceeded, laughing: 

“My sister and her children being out of the way, my 
tongue is at freedom. Tell me, brother, did you ever hear 
the story of the greyhound? The handsomest bitches 
sighed after him; he remained insensible to all their ten¬ 
der growls; one day a monk’s frock was thrown upon him, 
and he immediately became as amorous as one possessed. 
Well, Captain Loyola was as possessed for love adventures 
as the greyhound in the story, without, however, having 
need of a monk’s frock to give him the start; and—but I 
was almost forgetting. Do you know, brother, in whose 
company I saw the fire-eater and hell-rake this evening ? 
With your friend Lefevre.” 


92 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


Christian remained for an instant speechless with as¬ 
tonishment; and turning to Monsieur John, he said: 

“I must admit that great is my astonishment. Le- 
fevre, whose name I mentioned to you before, is an aus¬ 
tere man, wholly absorbed in scientific pursuits and in 
study. What can he have in common with the Spanish 
libertine ? I am unable to explain the mystery.” 

“If you are surprised, brother, no less so am I,” replied 
the Franc-Taupin. “Captain Loyola, whom fourteen or 
fifteen years ago I knew as the handsomest, gayest and 
most dissolute of cavaliers, dressed in velvets, silks and lace, 
looks to-day as tattered as any tramp or starving beggar. 
The transformation is so radical, that I never would have 
thought of looking for my frisky Spanish captain under 
the black smock-frock of a halepopin, had it not been for 
Lefevre, who, stopping me near the booths of the market 
place, which I was then crossing, inquired after you. It 
was then that I looked more attentively at his seedy com¬ 
panion and recognized—Don Ignatius !” 

“The man's relations astonish me so much, Josephin, 
that I am no less impatient than our guest to hear you.” 

“Well, it was in the year 1521, during the siege of Pam- 
peluna,” the adventurer began, “and shortly after my en¬ 
rollment with the Franc-Taupins. I was digging a trench 
with them before the place; we were throwing up the 
earth like veritable moles. The Spaniards made a sortie 
in order to destroy our works. At the first shot of the. 
Spanish arquebuses, all my companions threw themselves 
flat down, with their noses in the hole. Their cowardice 


TBE FRANC-TAUP1N. 


93 


angered me. I took up my pick and rushed into the me¬ 
lee, plying my improvised weapon upon the Spaniards. 
A blow with a mace over my head knocked me down half 
dead. When I recovered consciousness I found myself 
lying upon the battle field among several of our men, all 
prisoners like myself. A company of Spanish arquebusiers 
surrounded us. Their captain, with the visor of his casque 
raised and mounted upon a Moorish horse as black as 
ebony, the housings of which were of red velvet embroid¬ 
ered with silver, was wiping his long, blood-stained sword 
upon the animal’s mane. The captain was Don Ignatius 
Loyola. Moustache turned up in Castilian style, goatee, 
an olive complexion, intrepid mien, haughty and martial 
bearing—such was his portrait. He had noticed me 
pounding his soldiers with my pick, and took a fancy 
both to my pick and my youth. When he saw that I had 
regained consciousness, he started to laugh and addressed 
me in French: ‘Will you be my page? Your wideawake 
face denotes an intelligent scapegrace; I shall furnish you 
a silver-embroidered red livery and a ducat a month, and 
you can eat your fill at my residence.’ Oh, brother, an 
offer to eat my fill, to me whose stomach had long been 
as hollow as the barrel of St. Benoit and as open as an 
advocate’s purse! The prospect of putting on a beautiful 
silver-embroidered livery, when my hose had for some time 
been reporting to me from which corner the wind blew! 
The thought of pocketing every month a ducat, when all 
my earnings during the whole campaign had so far been 
a wooden bowl that I plundered somewhere, and that I 


94 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


used for a hat! In token of glad acceptance I seized my 
pick that lay near me, threw it as far away as I could, 
and I told Don Ignatius that I accepted, and would follow 
him to the very devil’s residence. The long and short of 
the affair was that I entered Pampeluna with my new 
master.” 

“I feel more and more mystified,” interjected Chris¬ 
tian ; “what service could a page, ignorant of the country’s 
language, render to Don Ignatius?” 

“The devil take it! That was the very reason why I 
was employed by the cunning slyboots of a Don Ignatius. 
No sooner did I arrive at his residence, than an old ma- 
jordomo, the only one of his men who spoke French,, rigged 
me up in new clothes, from my feet to my head,—puffed 
hose of red velvet, white satin jacket, short cloak with sil¬ 
ver trimmings, ruffs and bonnet after the Spanish style. 
Thus behold me, brother, attired as a genuine court page. 
In those days I had both my eyes—two luminaries of dev¬ 
iltry, besides the cunning nose of a fox cub. Thus dressed 
up in spick and span dashing new clothes, the majordomo 
led me to Captain Loyola. ‘Do you know/ he asked me, 
‘why I take you, a Frenchman, for my page? It is be¬ 
cause, as you do not know Spanish, you can not choose but 
be discreet towards the people in my house and those out¬ 
side/ ” 

“That is not badly planned,” remarked Christian; “Don 
Ignatius had, I suppose, many amorous secrets to conceal ?” 

“By the bowels of St. Quenet! I knew him to have as 
many as three sweethearts at a time: a charming mer- 


TEE FRAN C-TAVPIN. 


65 


chant’s wife, a haughty marchioness, and a bedeviled gipsy 
girl, the most beautiful daughter of Bohemia that ever 
trilled a tambourine. But Captain Loyola, a veritable 
Franc-Taupin in matters of love, courted behind concealed 
trenches. He reveled in mystery. ‘What is not known 
does not exist’ was, with him, a favorite maxim that the 
old majordomo, his master’s echo, often repeated to me.” 

“ ‘What is not known does not exist,’ ” repeated Mon¬ 
sieur John pensively. “Yes, judging by the motto, the 
man must be just what he has been described to me to be.” 

“Just listen,” Josephin proceeded; “I shall describe to 
you the experiences that I made the first evening that I 
served Don Ignatius as page. You will then be able to 
judge of the scamp’s calibre. A fifteen-days’ truce was 
agreed upon between the French and the Spaniards, as a 
result of the sortie at which I was taken prisoner. As a 
longheaded man, Captain Loyola proposed to profit by the 
truce in his amorous intrigues. Towards midnight he 
summoned me to his side. The devil! If the fellow 
looked martial in battle outfit, he looked frisky in his court 
costume! A jacket slashed with gold-embroidered velvet, 
puffed hose of white satin, shoes turned like a crawfish, 
plumed bonnet, a gold be jeweled chain on his neck! What 
shall I say? He shone and glittered, and besides, smelled 
of balsam! A veritable muskrat! He hands for me to 
carry a silken ladder and a guitar; takes his dagger and 
sword; and wraps himself up to the eyes in a taffeta man¬ 
tle of light yellow. The old majordomo opens a secret 
door to us; we issue out of the house; after crossing a few 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


96 

narrow streets, we arrive at a deserted little square. My 
master glides under a balcony that is shut with lattices, 
takes the guitar from my hands, and there you have him 
warbling his roundelay. In response to the carol of the 
moustachioed nightingale, one of the shutters of the bal¬ 
cony opens slightly, and a bouquet of pomegranate blos¬ 
soms drops at our feet. Don Ignatius picks it up, ex¬ 
tracts from amidst the flowers a little note concealed among 
them, and gives me the guitar together with the bouquet 
to hold for him. I imagined our evening performance 
concluded. By the bowels of St. Quenet, it had only com¬ 
menced ! Don Ignatius fanned the sparks of his libidin¬ 
ousness with his guitarade, on the same principle that one 
fans the sparks of his thirst by chewing on a pork-rind 
dipped in mustard. But by the way of thirst, brother, let 
us imbibe that pot; appetite comes with eating, but thirst 
goes with drinking. He who drinks without being thirsty 
drinks for the thirst that is to come. Thirst is an animal’s 
quality, but to crave for drink is a quality of man. By 
St. Pansard and St. Goguelu, let’s moisten, let’s moisten 
our whistles! Our tongues will dry up soon enough! Un¬ 
happy Shrove-Tuesday, the patron of pots and sausages— 
and the devil take the Pope and all his friarhood!” 

“Josephin,” said Christian, smiling and filling the 
Franc-Taupin’s cup, as he broke into the midst of the 
latter’s flow of bacchic invocations, "I know you to be an 
expert in the matter of quaffing, but our guest and myself 
are more curious about the end of your story.” 

“God’s head! As truly as the mere shadow of a Car- 


THE PRANC-TAVPIX. 


97 


melite convent is enough to cure any woman of sterility, 
I shall not allow the end of the adventure of Don Ignatius 
to drown at the bottom of this cup! There, it is now 
empty 

Saying this, the Franc-Taupin passed the back of 
his hand over his moustache, moist with wine, wiped it 
dry, and proceeded: 

"Well, as I was saying, after his guitarade, Don Igna¬ 
tius proceeded with his nocturnal adventure on the streets 
of Pampeluna. We moved away, and pulled up next before 
a pretentious dwelling. My master plants himself under 
a balcony at some distance from the main entrance; passes 
his long sword over to me to keep with the guitar, and re¬ 
tains no weapon other than his dagger; he then disen¬ 
gages himself of his mantle also, which he throws over my 
arm and says to me: ‘You will hold the lower end of the 
ladder while I climb up to the balcony; you will then keep 
a sharp lookout near the door of this house; if you see 
anyone go in, you will run quickly under this window and 
clap your hands twice; I shall hear your signal/ This 
being agreed upon, Don Ignatius himself claps his hands 
three times. Immediately thereupon I see through the 
darkness of the night, a white form lean over the balus¬ 
trade and drop us a cord. My master ties his ladder to 
it; the white form draws it up; the upper end of the lad¬ 
der is fastened to the balcony; I steady it by holding the 
lower rung in my hands; and there you have Captain Loy¬ 
ola clambering up nimbly and light of heel, like a tom-cat 
running over a roof-pipe. As to myself, no less distressed 

> 

> > y » 

> > 

> > > 

> > > 


08 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


than the dog of the cook who is turning the roast on the 
spit over a fire, and looks at the savory meat out of the 
corner of his eyes without oartaking of it, I run and place 
myself in ambush near the door. The devil! A few min¬ 
utes later, what is that I see? Several seigneurs, lighted 
by lackeys with torches in their hands turn into the street. 
One of them walks straight to the door near which I stand 
on the watch, and enters the house where my master is 
regaling himself. Obedient to the watchword, but forget¬ 
ting that the flames of the torches are lighting me, I run 
to the balcony and clap my hands twice. By the bowels 
of St. Quenet, I am perceived! Two lackeys seize me at 
the moment when, notified by my signal, Captain Loyola 
is straddling the balustrade in order to descend into the 
street. He is recognized by the light of the torches. Tt 
is he !’ ‘There he is !’ cry the seigneurs who stand in a 
bunch in the street. Although discovered, Don Ignatius 
glides bravely down the ladder, touches ground and calls: 
‘Halloa, there, page, my sword!’ ‘Don Ignatius of Loyola, 
I am Don Alonzo, the brother of Donna Carmen,’ says 
one of the cavaliers. ‘I am ready to give you satisfaction/ 
answers the captain proudly. But by the bowels of St. 
Quenet, it was with Don Ignatius’s duels as with his am¬ 
orous appointments: before the one was well finished the 
next commenced. Suddenly, the man whom I had seen 
enter the house, in short, the husband, Don Hercules Luga, 
appeared at the balcony; he held a bleeding sword in his 
hand. He leans forward into the street and cries: ‘Friends, 
justice is done to the woman! There now remains justice 


TEE FRANC-TAUPIN. 


99 


to be done to her accomplice. Hold him. I am coming 
down P ” 

“Poor woman !” said Christian. “The death that he 
was the cause of must have horrified the libertine.” 

“Him? The devil! Horrified at so little? Judge for 
yourself. At the moment he learned of the death of his 
inamorata he receives his sword from the hands of Don 
Alonzo, who had taken it away from me. Don Ignatius 
pricks its point into the tip of his shoe, and without wink¬ 
ing bends the blade in order to satisfy himself on its tem¬ 
per. That shows how frightened he was at the death of his 
lady-love. The husband, Don Hercules, comes out of the 
house, steps up to my master and says to him: ‘Don Igna¬ 
tius of Loyola, I received you as a friend at my hearth; 
you have led my wife astray; you are a felon, unworthy of 
knighthood P And what do you imagine, brother, is the 
answer that Captain Loyola made to that? If you can 
guess, I shall be willing to die of thirst. But no; a pox on 
these funereal prognostics! I prefer to drink, to drink 
until my soles sweat wine !” 

“Proceed, Josephin; proceed with your story.” 

“ ‘Don Hercules,” answers Captain Loyola loftily, ‘in 
leading Carmen astray, it was not your woman 1 that I led 
astray, but a woman, as any other! You insult me by 
accusing me of a felony. You shall pay dearly, and on 
the spot, for such an insult. I shall kill you like a dog/ ” 

“Did you grasp that? Can you imagine a more odious 
subtlety?” asked Christian of Monsieur John. “What a 

MeTS panish, as well as French, same word. Loyola punned upon 
“woman” and “wife” are the the word. 



100 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


hypocritical distinction! The lib’ertine seduced the un¬ 
fortunate woman, but not his friend’s wife—only the 
woman, as a woman! Just God, such subtle quibbling! and 
that while his victim’s corpse is still warm!” 

“That is, indeed, the man as he has been described to 
me,” repeated the guest, with a pensive air. “What I am 
learning is a revelation to me.” 

“The issue of the duel could not be doubtful,” proceeded 
the Franc-Taupin. “Captain Loyola enjoyed the reputa¬ 
tion of being the most skilful swordsman in Spain. He 
fully deserved his reputation. Don Hercules drops dead 
upon the ground. Don Alonzo endeavors to avenge his 
sister and brother-in-law, but the young man is readity 
disarmed by Don Ignatius, who, raising his sword, says: 
‘Your life belongs to me; you have insulted me by sharing 
the unworthy suspicions of Don Hercules, who accused me 
of having betrayed his friendship. But go in peace, young 
man, repent your evil thoughts—I pardon you!’ After 
which Captain Loyola repaired to the gypsy girl and spent 
with her the rest of the night. I heard the two (always 
like the cook’s dog) laugh, sing and carouse, clinking their 
glasses filled with Spanish wine. We returned home at 
dawn. Now tell me, brother Christian, what do you think 
of the gallant? You may judge by the experience of that 
night the number of pretty women whom the captain 
Loyolized!” 

“Oh, the man’s infernal hypocrisy only deepens the 
blackness of his debaucheries and swordsman’s prowess!” 

Absorbed in his private thoughts, Monsieur John re^ 

<<. ; 

. * * 

« « € 



THE FRANC-TAUPIN. 


101 


mained in a brown study. Presently he said to the Franc- 
Taupin: 

"You followed Loyola to war. Was the captain’s regi¬ 
ment well disciplined ? How did he treat his soldiers ?” 

“His soldiers ? By the bowels of St. Quenet! Imagine, 
not men, but iron statues, that, with but a gesture, a wink 
of his eye, Don Ignatius either moved or petrified, as he 
chose. Broken in and harnessed to his command like so 
many machines, he said: ‘Go!’—and they went, not only 
into battle but whithersoever he ordered. They were no 
longer themselves, but he. What the devil. Captain Loy¬ 
ola controlled men and women like horses—by the identical 
methods.” 

“What methods, let us hear them, Josephin.” 

“Well, one day a wild stallion of Cordova was brought 
to him; the animal was savage, a veritable demon; two 
strong stablemen were hardly able to hold him by the 
halter. Don Ignatius ordered the wild beast to be taken 
to a small enclosed yard, and remained there alone with 
him. I was outside, behind the gate. First I heard the 
stallion neigh with fury, then with pain, and then there 
was silence. Two hours later Captain Loyola issued from 
the yard mounted on the animal which steamed with foam 
and still trembled with fear, but as docile as a curate’s 
mule.” 

“That is wonderful!” cried Christian. “Was the man 
possessed of a magic charm with which to curb wild 
beasts ?” 

“Exactly so, brother, and his talisman consisted in a set 


102 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


of reins so fearfully and skilfully contrived that, if the 
horse yielded passive obedience to the hand that guided 
him, he felt no pain whatever; but at the slightest show 
of resistance, Captain Loyola set in motion a certain steel 
saw contrivance supplied with sharp points and fastened 
in the bit. Immediately the animal would neigh with pain, 
remain motionless and sink down upon his haunches, 
whereupon Don Ignatius would pat it with his hand and 
give it some cream cakes. By the bowels of St. Quenet! 
Iron reins and cream cakes—this was the trick wherewith 
the captain Loyolized men, women and horses!” 

“And did his soldiers love him, despite his inflexible 
yoke?” asked Monsieur John. 

“Did they love him ? The devil! Do you forget the 
cream cakes? Puddings, sausages, capons, fatted geese, 
pouches filled with Val-de-Penas wine, gay wenches, high 
jinks in the barracks; in the enemy’s country, free pillage, 
free rape, fire, blood and sack, and long live the satur¬ 
nalia! These were the cream cakes of Captain Loyola. 
Whenever occasion required, he would treat his soldiers to 
these dainties out of his own pocket like a magnificent 
seigneur; but to allow his soldiers to reflect, to think, to 
reason, to will?—Never! To ask why this and why that? 
Never! ‘Kill/ the captain would say, and the response 
was: ‘Listen, he says kill—we kill!’ But it is your friend, 
your brother, your father, your sister, your mother that he 
orders you to kill. ‘Makes no difference, he said kill—we 
kill, and we kill / and then come the cream cakes and more 
cream cakes, otherwise the reins begin to play, and they 


TEE FRANC-TAUPIN. 


103 


play so severely—clubbings, strappings, croppings of ears, 
hanging by the limbs and other devices of the devil. ‘Our 
dear master/ often did the old majordomo say to me, ‘our 
dear master is everything to all of us, provided all of us 
let him have his own will untrammeled; omnipotence is 
the secret joy of the dear Don Ignatius; to possess a 

woman, curb a mettlesome horse, manoeuvre his men of 

* ■*- 

iron as one bends a reed—that is his enjoyment! He de¬ 
lights in absorbing souls. As to bodies, he fondles, ca¬ 
resses, indulges, dandles, fattens and greases them—pro¬ 
vided they move at his will/ It is ever so, he who holds 
the soul holds the body.” 

Christian hesitated to believe the account of the Franc- 
Taupin; he could hardly give credence to the monstrous 
description. Monsieur John looked less surprised, but 
more alarmed. He said to Josephin, who, having wished 
to help himself to some more wine, sighed at finding the 
pot empty: 

“But by what combination of circumstances could Ig¬ 
natius Loyola, such as you described him to us and such 
as, I do believe, he was, metamorphose himself to the ex¬ 
tent of coming here, to Paris, and seat himself on the 
benches of the Montaigu College among the youngest of 
the students?” 

“What!” cried Christian, stupefied. “Is Ignatius Loy¬ 
ola to-day a simple student?” 

“He attended the College,” replied Monsieur John; 
“and one day he submitted to be publicly whipped in pun¬ 
ishment for a slip of memory. There is something unex- 


104 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


plainable, or frightful, in such humility on the part of 
such a man.” 

i 

“Ignatius Loyola! the debauchee, the skilful swords¬ 
man ! The haughty nobleman, did he do that ?” cried 
Christian. “Can it be possible?” 

“By the bowels of St. Quenet, brother,” put in the 
Franc-Taupin in his turn, “as well tell me that the monks 
of Citeaux left their kegs empty after vintage! Even such 
a thing would sound less enormous than that Captain Loy¬ 
ola slipped down his hose to receive a flogging! The devil 
take me!” cried the Franc-Taupin vainly trying to extract 
a few more drops from the pot. “I am choked with sur¬ 
prise !” 

“But you must not be allowed to choke with thirst, 
good Josephin,” put in Christian, smiling and exchanging 
a look of intelligence with Monsieur John. “The pot is 
empty. As soon as your story is ended, and in order to 
feast our guest, I shall have to ask you to go to the tavern 
that you know of and fetch us a pot of Argenteuil wine. 
That is agreed, brother.” 

“St. Pansard, have pity upon my paunch! By my 
faith, brother, the pots are empty. I guess the reason why. 
One time I used to drink it all—now I leave nothing. Did 
you say a pot of wine? Amen!” said the Franc-Taupin 
rising from his seat. “We shall furnish our guest with a 
red border, like a cardinal! Yes, brother, it is agreed. 
And so I shall go for the pot, but not for one only—for two, 
or three.” 

“Not so fast, first finish your story; I am interested iii 


THE FRANC-TAUPIN. 


105 


it more than you can imagine,” said Monsieur John with 
great earnestness. “I must again ask you: To what do 
you, who knew Loyola so well, attribute this incredible 
change ?” 

“May my own blood smother me; may the quartain fever 
settle my hash, if I understand it! A few hours ago I 
strained my remaining eye fit to give it a squint, in con¬ 
templating Don Ignatius. Seeing him so threadbare, so 
wan, so seedy and leaning upon his staff, I had not the 
courage to remind him of me. By the bowels of St. Quenet, 
I felt ashamed of having been page to the worn-out old 
crippled hunch-back.” 

“How is that! You described him as having been such 
a fine-looking cavalier and such a skilful swordsman—and 
yet he was hunch-backed?” 

“He was crippled through two wounds that he received 
at the siege of Pampeluna. The devil! All the fathers, 
all the brothers, all the husbands whose daughters, sisters 
and wives the captain Loyolized, would have felt them¬ 
selves thoroughly revenged if, like myself, they had seen 
him writhe like one possessed and howling like a hundred 
wolves from the pain of his wounds. By the bowels of the 
Pope, what horrible grimaces the man made!” 

“But how could so intrepid a man display such weak¬ 
ness at pain?” 

“Not at the pain itself; not that. On the contrary. As 
a result of his wounds he voluntarily endured positive tor¬ 
ture, beside which his first agonies were gentle caresses/ 5 


106 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“And why did he submit to such tortures ? Can you 
explain that?” 

“Yes. The truce between the Spaniards and the French 
lasted several days. At its close Captain Loyola mounted 
his horse, and placing himself at the head of his forces or¬ 
dered a sortie. He made havoc among the enemy; but in 
the melee he received two shots from an arquebus. One of 
them fractured his right leg just below the knee, the other 
took him under the left hip. My gallant was carried to 
his house and we laid him in his bed. Do you know what 
were the first words that Don Ignatius uttered? They 
were these: ‘Death and passion, I may remain deformed 
all my life F And would you believe it ? Captain Loyola 
wept like a woman! Aye, he wept, not with pain, no, by 
the bowels of St. Quenet, but with rage! You may im¬ 
agine how crossed the handsome and roistering cavalier 
felt at the prospect. Imagine a limping cripple strolling 
under balconies and warbling his love songs! Imagine 
such a figure running after the senoras! What a sight it 
would be to have such a disjointed lover throwing himself 
at their feet at the risk of being unable to pick himself 
up again and yelling with pain: ‘Oh, my leg! Oh, my 
knee F Just think of such a lame duck attempting to try 
conclusions with jealous and irate husbands and brothers, 
arms in hand! Don Ignatius must have thought of all 
that—and wept!” 

“It is almost incomprehensible that a man of his temper 
could be so enamoured of his physical advantages,” re¬ 
marked Christian. 


THE FRANC-TAUP1N. 


107 


“Not at all!” replied Monsieur John thoughtfully. “Oh, 
what an abyss is the human soul! I now think I under¬ 
stand—” but suddenty breaking off he asked the Franc- 
Taupin: “Accordingly, Don Ignatius was dominated by 
the fear of remaining crippled for life?” 

“That was his only worry. But I must hurry on. I 
have a horror of empty wine pots. My present worry is 
about the wine spigot. Well, all the same, after healing, 
Captain Loyola’s legs remained, as he feared, of unequal 
length. ‘Oh, dogs! Jews! Pagan surgeons!’ bawled Don 
Ignatius when he made the discovery. ‘Fetch me here the 
robed asses! the brothers of Beelzebub ! I shall have them 
quartered!’ Summoned in great hurry, the poor wretches 
of surgeons hastened to Don Ignatius. They trembled; 
turned and turned him about; they examined and re-ex¬ 
amined his leg; after all of which, the slashers of Christian 
flesh and sawers of Christian bones declared that they could 
render Captain Loyola as nimble of foot as ever he was. 
‘A hundred ducats to each of you if you keep your promise!’ 
he cried, already seeing himself prancing on horseback, 
prinking in his finery, strutting about, warbling love songs 
under balconies, parading, and above all Loyolizing. ‘Yes, 
senor; the lameness will disappear,’ answered the bone- 
setters, Tut, we shall have, first of all, to break your leg 
over again, where it was fractured before; in the second 
place, senor, we shall have to cut away the flesh that has 
grown over the bone below your knee; in the third place, 
we shall have to saw off a little bone that protrudes; that 
all being done, no doe of the forest will be more agile than 


108 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


your Excellency/ ‘Break, re-set, cut off, saw off, by the 
death of God F cried Captain Loyola ‘provided I can walk 
straight! Go ahead! Start to work F ” 

“But that series of operations must have caused him 
frightful painF’ 

“By the bowels of St. Quenet! When the protruding 
bone was being sawed off, the grinding of Captain Loyola’s 
teeth drowned the sound of the saw’s teeth. The contor¬ 
tions that he went through made him look like a veritable 
demon. His suffering was dreadful.” 

“And did he heal?” 

“Perfectly. But there still remained the left thigh in 
its bandages. The fraternity of surgeons swore that that 
limb would be as good if not better than before the injury 
that it sustained. At the end of six weeks Captain Loyola 
rose and tried to walk. He did walk. Glory to the bone- 
setters ! He no longer limped of the right leg; but, the 
devil! his left thigh had shrunk by two inches by reason of 
a. tendon that was wounded. And there was my gallant 
still hobbling, worse than ever. It had all to be done over 
aeain.” 

“Don Ignatius’s fury must have been fierce F’ 

“Howling tigers and roaring lions would have been as 
bleating lambs beside Captain Loyola in his boiling rage. 
‘Dear, sweet master,’ his old majordomo said to him, ‘the 
saints will help you; why despair? The surgeons per¬ 
formed a miracle on your right leg; why should not they 
be equally able to do the same thing on your left thigh?’ 
The drowning man clings to a straw. ‘Halloa^ page, run 


v 


THE FRANC-TAUPltf. 


m 


to the surgeons!’ yelled my master at me; Tiring them 
here instantly!’ The surgeons came. ‘Here they are, 
senor/ T suffered the pangs of death for the cure of my 
right leg; I am willing to suffer as much or worse for the 
lengthening of my left thigh. Can you do it?’ said Don 
Ignatius to the bone-setters. Whereupon they fell to feel¬ 
ing, pressing, kneading and manipulating the twisted thigh 
of the patient; without desisting from their work at the 
member after a while they raised their heads and mum¬ 
bled between their teeth: ‘Senor, yes, we can free you from 
this limp—but, firstly, we shall ’have to strap you down 
upon your back, where you will have to lie, motionless, for 
two months; secondly, a strap will have to be passed under 
your arms and fastened firmly to the head of your couch; 
thirdly, a weight of fifty pounds will have to be adjusted 
to a ring and fastened to your left leg, to the end that the 
weight slowly, steadily, and constantly distend your thigh. 
The result will then be obtained, seeing you will be held 
firm and motionless by the two straps, the one that binds 
you down to your bed and the other, under your arms, 
that holds you to the head of your couch. With the aid of 
these contrivances, your thigh will be restored to its normal 
condition at the end of two months, and the does of the 
forest will then be less agile than vour Excellency/ ‘Do it!’ 
was Loyola’s answer. ‘Strap, distend, stretch me out, 
blood of God, provided I can walk!’ ” 

“That is frightful!” cried Christian. “It is the ‘wooden 
horse’ torture, prolonged beyond the point of human en^ 
durance.” 


110 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“By the bowels of St. Quenet! There is nothing beyond 
endurance to a gallant who is determined not to hobble. 
Don Ignatius underwent the torture for the two months. 
The old majordomo and myself nursed our master. At 
times he screamed—Oh, such screams! They were heard 
a thousand feet from the house. Exhausted with pain, his 
eyelids would droop in sleep, but only to be suddenly re¬ 
awakened with a start by his shooting pains. At such 
times the sounds that he emitted were screams no longer, 
but the howlings of the damned. At the end of two months 
of insomnia and continuous agony, which left nothing 
but the skin on his bones, but during which he was held 
up at least with the hope of final cure, Captain Loyola’s 
surgeons held a consultation, and allowed him to leave his 
bed of torture. He rose, walked—but, the devil! not only 
was his left thigh not sufficiently lengthened, but his right 
knee, that had been previously operated upon, had become 
ossified from lying motionless for so long a time! Captain 
Loyola said not a word; he became livid as a corpse and 
dropped unconscious to the floor. We all thought he was 
dead. The next day the majordomo notified me that our 
master did no longer need a page. My wages were paid 
me; I left Spain and returned to France with other pris¬ 
oners who had been set free. After all that, and after the 
lapse of fourteen or fifteen years, I ran a few hours ago 
across Don Ignatius, near a booth on the market place, in 
the company of your friend Lefevre. That, brother, 
ends my story. Jarnigoy! Is it not racy ? But by the 
bowels of St. Quenet, my tongue is parched; it cleaves to 


TEE FRANC-TAUPIN. 


Ill 


the roof of my mouth; my whistle burns; it is on the point 
of breaking out into flame; help! help ! wine! wine! Let 
the wdne act as water to put out the fire! I shall now run 
out for the promised nectar of Argenteuil!” added the 
Franc-Taupin, rising from his seat. “I shall be back in a 
jiffy! And then we shall drinkedrille, drinkedraille, gaily 
clink glasses with our guest. A full pot calls for a wide 
throat!” 

So saying, Josephin went out, singing in a sonorous 
voice his favorite refrain: 


“A Franc-Taupin had an ash-tree bow, 

All eaten with worms, and all knotted its cord; 
His arrow was made out of paper, and plumed, 
And tipped at the end with a capon’s spur. 
Derideron, vignette on vignon! Deridcron!” 


CHAPTER VII. 


/ 

BROTHER ST. ERNE ST-M ART YR. 

The moment the Franc-Taupin left the house the stran¬ 
ger said to Christian: 

“Your brother-in-law’s story is a revelation to me. The 
past life of Ignatius Loyola explains to me his present 
life.” 

“But who is that man? Whence the interest, curiosity 
and even alarm that he seems to inspire you with?” 

Christian w r as saying these words when his wife descend¬ 
ed from the floor above. The sight of her reminded him 
it was urgent that the stranger be taken to the garret be¬ 
fore the return of Josephin. “Bridget,” he accordingly 
said to his wife, “has Hena gone to bed?” 

“Yes; both the dear children have retired for the night.” 

“Master Robert Estienne has confided a secret to me 
and asked of me a service, dear Bridget. For two or three 
days we are to hide Monsieur John, our guest of this even¬ 
ing, in this house. The garret seems to me to offer a safe 
retreat. I have temporarily got your brother out of the 
way. Take our refugee upstairs; I shall remain here to 
wait for Josephin.” 

Bridget took up again the lamp that she had deposited 


BROTHER ST. ERNEST-MARTYR. 113 

upon the table, and said to the stranger as she prepared to 
lead the way upstairs: 

“Come, monsieur; your secret will remain with Chris¬ 
tian and myself; you may rely upon our discretion.” 

“I am certain of that, madam,” answered Monsieur 
John; “I shall never forget your generous hospitality;” 
and addressing the artisan: “Could you join me later, after 
your brother-in-law has gone ? I should like to speak with 
you.” 

“I shall join monsieur after Josephin’s departure,” 
Christian answered the stranger, who followed Bridget to 
the upper loft. 

The latter two had both withdrawn when suddenly an 
uproar was heard in the street. Peals of laughter were 
interspersed with the plaintive cries of a woman. Al¬ 
though quite familiar with these nocturnal disorders, see¬ 
ing that the Guilleris, the Mauvais-Gargons, the Tire- 
Laines and other bandits infested the streets at night, and 
not infrequently disturbed the carousals of the young 
seigneurs bent upon their debauches, Christian’s first im¬ 
pulse was to go out to the help of the woman whose cries 
resounded ever more plaintive. Considering, however, that 
no decent woman would venture outside of her house at 
such a late hour, and, above all, fearing that by interfering 
in the affray he might provoke an assault upon his house 
and thereby put the safety of his guest in jeopardy, he con¬ 
tented himself with partly opening the window, where¬ 
upon, by the light of the torches held by several pages 
dressed in rich liveries, he saw three seigneurs, evidently 


114 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


just come from some orgy, surrounding a woman. The 
seigneurs were in an advanced stage of intoxication and 
sought to drag the woman after them; she resisted and held 
her arms closely clasped around a large cross that stood in 
the center of the bridge. The woman cried imploringly: 

1 “Oh, leave me, seigneurs. In the name of heaven, leave 
me! Mercy! Have pity for a woman—mercy, seigneurs !” 

“May the flames of St. Anthony consume me if you 
do not come with us, strumpet!” yelled one of the seign¬ 
eurs, seizing the woman by the waist. “A street walker 
to put on such airs! Come, my belle, either walk or w T e 
shall strip you on the spot!” 

“You are mistaken, seigneurs,” answered the poor creat¬ 
ure panting for breath in the unequal struggle; “I am an 
honest widow.” 

“Honest and a widow!” exclaimed one of the debauchees. 
“’Sdeath, what a windfall! We shall marry you over 
again.” 

Saying which the seigneurs tried anew to tear their vic¬ 
tim from the foot of the cross to which she clung with 
terror and screamed aloud for help. Attracted by the 
cries, a young monk, who happened to be in a nearby side 
street, ran to the scene, saw' the distressed condition of the 
persecuted woman, and rushed at her aggressors, saying 
in a deeply moved voice: 

“Oh, brothers, to outrage a woman at the very foot of 
the cross! That is a cowardly act, condemned by God!” 

“What business is that of yours, you frockist, you con¬ 
vent rat!” cried one of the assailants, stepping towards the 


BROTHER ST. ERNEST-MARTYR. 115 

monk with a menacing gesture. “Do you know whom it is 
that you are talking with? Do you know that I have the 
power, not only to kill you, but to excommunicate you, you 
beggar ? I am the Marquis of Fleurange, the colonel of 
the regiment of Normandy, and over and above that, Bishop 
of Coutances. So, then, go your ways quickly and without 
further ado, } 7 ou tonsured knave and mumbler of masses. 
If you do not, I shall use my spiritual powers and my 
temporal powers—I shall excommunicate you and run you 
through with my sword!” 

“Oh, Brother St. Ernest-Martyr! Come to my help! 
It is I, Maty La Catelle !” cried the young widow, as she 
recognized the monk by the light of the torches. “For 
pity’s sake stand by me !” 

“Oh, my brothers!” cried the monk indignantly, run¬ 
ning towards Mary. “The woman whom you are outrag¬ 
ing is a saint! She gathers the little, children that are 
left unprotected; she instructs them; she is blessed by all 
who know her; she is entitled to your respect.*’ 

“If she is a saint, I am a bishop—and between a female 
saint and a bishop the relations are close!” answered the 
Mjarquis of Fleurange with a winey guffaw 7 . “'She loves 
children! ’Sdeath, she shall be delighted! I shall swell 
her family!” 

“You shall kill me before you reach her!” cried the 
monk, vigorously thrusting the marquis back. The latter, 
being heavily in his cups, reeled, swore and blasphemed, 
while Brother St. Ernest-Martyr threw 7 himself between 
the widow, who clung to the cross, and her assailants. 


116 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked defiantly at 
the seigneurs and said to them challengingly, as he barred 
their way to their victim: 

“Come forward, if you will; but you will have to kill 
me before you touch this woman!” 

“Insolent frockist! You dare threaten us and to raise 
your hand against me!” yelled the colonel-bishop furious 
and tottering on his unsteady limbs; and drawing his 
sword in its scabbard out of his baldric, he took it in both 
his hands, and struck so hard a blow with its heavy hilt 
upon the forehead of the monk, that the latter w T as dazed 
by the blow, staggered backward, and fell bleeding from an 
ugly scalp wound at the feet of Mary La Catelle. 

Despite the caution that his guest’s safety imposed upon 
him, Christian could no longer remain a passive witness 
of such acts of brutality; he entertained a respectful es¬ 
teem for the young widow whose virtuous life he was ac¬ 
quainted with; moreover, he feared lest the monk, who 
had so generously interposed between the drunken seign¬ 
eurs and their victim, be subjected to further maltreatment. 
Christian shut the window, armed himself with a heavv 
iron bar, slipped quietly out of his house, shut the door 
after him without making any noise, in order to prevent 
its being known from whence he came, and, seeing several 
of his neighbors, whom the disturbance had drawn to 
their windows, he shouted: 

“To your clubs, my friends, to your clubs! Will you 
allow women to be afsailed ? and defenseless men to be 


BROTHER ST. ERNEST-MARTYR. 117 

killed ? To your clubs, my friends, to your clubs! Let us 
save the victims!” 

Saying this, Christian ran resolutely upon the three 
seigneurs and their pages. At that very moment, the 
Franc-Taupin returned upon the bridge with the pot of 
Argenteuil wine that he had gone after. Seeing the arti¬ 
san by the light of the torches and hearing him summon 
the neighbors to their clubs, the Franc-Taupin deposited 
the pot of wine at the threshold of the door, drew his sword 
and rushed to the fray crying: 

“By the bowels of St. Quenet, here I am! My fine 
blade has not taken the air for a long time! It itches in 
my hands! Death to the enemies of the good people of 
Paris! Death to the nobles and their pages!” 

Several of Christian’s neighbors answered his summons 
and issued from their houses, some armed with clubs, oth¬ 
ers with pikes. For a moment the three seigneurs stood 
their ground bravely; they drew close abreast of one anoth¬ 
er and drew their swords. Their pages, however, as much 
out of fear of being hurt in the broil as out of mischief, 
suddenly put out their torches and screamed: 

“Seigneurs! There is a squad of armed constables 
coming this way! There, on the bridge! Lookout! Run 
who run can!” 

Upon shouting this lie the pages ran off as fast as theii 
legs could carry them and left their masters and their 
assailants in utter darkness. The three seigneurs did not 
feel much concern on the score of the constables, who 
never dared to suppress the disorders of the nobility; but 


118 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


realizing that they had to do with eight or ten deter¬ 
mined men, the assailants of the defenseless woman profit¬ 
ed by the darkness in which they found themselves to slip 
away upon the heels of their pages, while Christian’s neigh¬ 
bors called for lanthorns in order to raise the wounded man. 
The artisan ran back into his house, lighted, and came out 
with a taper. By the light the monk was discovered 
stretched out at the foot of the cross, with his head bathed 
in the blood that ran profusely from his scalp wound. On 
her knees beside him, and weeping tears of thankfulness, 
Mary La Catelle sought to staunch the wound of her de¬ 
fender. Brother St. Ernest-Martyr was carried into 
Christian’s house with the help of the Franc-Taupin and 
some neighbors. The artisan offered asylum also to the 
widow, who was almost fainting with fright. Commis¬ 
sioned by her husband to conduct the stranger to the gar¬ 
ret, the only window of which opened upon the river, 
Bridget remained ignorant of what was occurring upon 
the street. When, however, she returned downstairs, great 
was her surprise and alarm at the sight of Mary La Ca¬ 
telle, pale, her dress thrown into disorder, and leaning 
against a table compassionately contemplating the wound¬ 
ed young monk. The latter was slowly regaining con¬ 
sciousness, thanks to the attention that he was receiving 
from the artisan and the Franc-Taupin. 

“Good God!” cried Bridget, hastening to approach the 
young widow. “Look at the poor monk covered with blood. 
What has happened, Mary?” 

“I was delayed at a friend’s longer than I had expected; 


BROTHER ST. ERNE ST-MARTYR. 119 

her majd servant accompanied me home; we were crossing 
the bridge when several swaggering seigneurs approached 
and made insulting remarks to us. The poor servant was 
frightened and ran away, leaving me alone. The men 
sought to drag me away with them. Brother St. Ernest- 
Martyr happening by, came to my rescue; he received on 
the forehead a blow with the hilt of a sword and fell bleed¬ 
ing at my feet. Happily your husband and several neigh¬ 
bors rushed to our help; thanks to them we escaped fur¬ 
ther maltreatment from our assailants; but the poor monk 
is wounded.” 

“Dear sister, let me have some fresh water and some 
lint,” said the Franc-Taupin to Bridget. Having often 
been wounded in war the soldier of adventure had some 
knowledge of the dressing of wounds. 

“I shall go upstairs for the lint, and bring my daughter 
down to help you,” answered Bridget as she proceeded to 
the storey above. 

Slightly recovered from her own fright, Mary La Catellc 
drew nearer to the monk with deepening interest. The 
Franc-Taupin looked around and said to Christian: 

“What has become of }'our guest? Did he show the 
white feather? I would have preferred he were a braver 
man.” 

“No, no, Josephin. Our guest left the house shortly 
before the disturbance on the street; he feared it was 
growing too late for him.” 

“Why did he not wait for me? I would have escorted 
him home safely after emptying our pot of Argenteuil. 


120 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


But, coming to think of it,” the Franc-Taupin broke off, 
while he left Christian to hold up the head of the friar, 
“I shall pour a few drops of wine down the wounded 
man’s throat; the devil! wine has the miraculous power 
of being as helpful to the sick as to the welland taking 
up the pot he approached it to his own lips. “Before ad¬ 
ministering the potion to others let me try it myself—it 
is the duty of all prudent pharmacists to assure themselves 
of the quality of their own medicine.” 

While the Franc-Taupin was thoroughly “trying” the 
beverage, Bridget came down again with her daughter. 
The latter had hastily put on her clothes. Her brother 
also, whom the noise had awakened, dressed himself and 
came out of his room. Herve was on the point of inquir¬ 
ing from his father what was the cause of the commotion 
in the house when his eyes alighted upon St. Ernest- 
Martyr, and he recognized the man whom his sister Hena 
had ingenuously called “her monk.” A flash of lightning 
shot from Herve’s eyes and for an instant his looks as¬ 
sumed a ferocious expression. The lad, however, controlled 
his sentiments and closely watched his sister and the friar, 
to the latter of whom the Franc-Taupin was administer¬ 
ing a few mouthfuls of the comforting wine. Speedily re¬ 
called to himself by the strengthening elixir, Brother St. 
Ernest-Martyr opened his eyes. Before him he saw, like 
a celestial apparition, the angelic countenance of Hena, 
who, with eyes moist with pity, held out to her uncle with 
a trembling hand the lint that lie was using to dress the 
wound of the monk whose head Christian held in his hands. 


BROTHER 8T. ERNEST-MARTYR. 121 

When he had completely regained consciousness and col¬ 
lected his thoughts, the monk became aware of the solici¬ 
tude with which he was surrounded by the family that had 
taken him in; tears of gratitude and tenderness welled up 
in his eyes and rolled down his face, which, pale with the 
loss of blood, recalled the touching beauty that painters 
impart to the image of Christ. The expression of ineffa¬ 
ble gratitude on the monk’s countenance gave it at the mo¬ 
ment so sweet a charm that Herve trembled with suppressed 
rage. His anger was such that it even threatened to break 
out when he surprised the eyes of the monk and of his 
sister once as they accidentally met. The lad noticed that 
both dropped their eyes and seemed embarrassed. These 
circumstances escaped all the other members of the family. 
Brother St. Ernest-Martyr turned his head towards Chris¬ 
tian and said to him in a feeble voice: 

“It is to you, no doubt, monsieur, that I owe my life. 
And yet I am a stranger to you. May heaven place it some 
day in my power to attest to you the gratitude with w r hich 
I am penetrated. I thank you for your help.” 

“Brother,” answered, the artisan, “I would have ful¬ 
filled my duty as a Christian by assisting you even if you 
were a stranger to me; but often did our mutual friend 
Mary La Catelle speak to us of you and of the esteem that 
you deserve. Besides, my wife often was present when 
you were teaching the little ones. She has preserved cher¬ 
ished recollections of the evangelical morality that you 
preached to them.” 

“Oh, we could never sufficiently praise the good broth- 


122 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


er!” exclaimed Mary La Catelle. “What is known of him 
is like nothing beside the numerous acts of charity that he 
practices in secret — 77 

“Sister, sister,” said the monk, blushing with modesty 
and interrupting the widow, “do not exaggerate my poor 
deserts; I love little ones; to instruct them is a pleasure 
to me and their affection more than rewards me for the 
little that I do for them. My duty squares with my pleas¬ 
ure.” 

“Well, brother, I shall say no more / 7 replied Mary La 
Catelle; “I shall not say how highly I think of you, and 
how I but re-echo the sentiments of all who know you; I 
shall say nothing of how, a short time ago, you rushed to 
my defense at the risk of your life; I shall not say how, 
only yesterday, a man who fell into the river near the isle 
of Notre Dame was being carried down stream and about 
to sink when you threw yourself — 77 

“Dear sister,” insisted Brother St. Ernest-Martyr with 
a melancholy smile, and again interrupting the widow 
whose praises of the monk placed Herve upon the rack, 
“your style of not saying things is too transparent. Oblige 
me; draw a veil over the acts that you refer to; anyone else 
would have done as much. We all in this world owe as¬ 
sistance to our fellows . 77 As the young monk spoke these 
words, his eyes involuntarily again encountered Hena’s; 
he sought to flee from their influence upon him; he rose 
from his stool, and said to Christian: “Adieu, monsieur; I 
am only a poor friar of the Order of St. Augustine; I can 
only preserve the deepest gratitude for your timely help. 


MOT&m ST. EMEST-MARTYR. 123 

Believe me, the remembrance of yourself and of ydur sym¬ 
pathetic family will always be present in my mind. May 
the blessing of God rest upon your house*” 

“What, brother,” interposed the artisan, “your wound is 
barely dressed, and you would leave the house so soon? 
Rest yourself a little longer; you are still too weak to pro* 
ceed on your routed 

“It is late, and I feel quite strong enough to return to 
my convents I went with the Superior’s consent to carry 
some consolation to a good old priest of Notre Dame who 
.lies dangerously ill. Night is now far advanced, allow ms 
to withdraw* I think that the fresh air will do me good,” 
and respectfully bowing to Hena and her mother, blush- 
ingly he said to Mary La Catelle: “To-morrow will be 
school day, dear sister; I hope I shall be able to go to your 
house as usual, and give the children their lessons.” 

“May it please God that you can keep your promise, 
dear brother,” answered the young widow; “but I am less 
courageous than you; I would not dare to return home 
to-night any more; I shall request Bridget to be so kind 
as to afford me asylum for the night.” 

“Do you imagine, dear Mary, that I would have al¬ 
lowed you to go?” answered Christian’s wife. “You shall 
share Hena’s bed.” 

After the monk’s wound was dressed, the Franc-Taupin 
had remained silent, sharing, as he did, the interest felt 
by the whole family, Herve, alas, only excepted, in poor 
Brother St. Ernest-Martyr. The latter’s modest bearing, 
the sweetness of his countenance, the good words that all 


124 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


had for him, deeply moved Josephin, who, his soldier’s 
manners and the adventurous life he led notwithstanding, 
was susceptible to generous emotions. Seeing the friar, 
after expressing his thanks anew to Christian, move 
towards the door, the Franc-Taupin took up his sword, put 
on his hat, and said: 

“My reverend man, you shall not go out alone. I shall 
escort you to the Augustinian Convent. It is common with 
blows received on the skull, to be followed after a while 
by dizziness. You might be seized with such a fit on your 
way. Let me offer you my arm.” 

“Thanks, Josephin,” said Bridget affectionately; “thanks 
for your kind thoughtfulness, my friend. Do accompany 
the worthy monk.” 

“I am obliged to you for your offer,” answered the monk 
to the Franc-Taupin; “but I can not consent to your 
troubling yourself by escorting me. The function with 
which I am clad, besides my robe, will be ample protection 
against marauders.” 

“Your robe! Were it not that I know how worthy a 
man is inside of it, I would let it depart alone. By the 
bowels of St. Quenet! I have no love for frockists. Mon¬ 
keys do not watch houses like dogs, they do not draw the 
plow like oxen, they do not carry loads like horses. Very 
much like the useless monkey, monks do not till the soil 
like the peasant, they do not defend the country like the 
soldier, they do not heal the sick like the physician. By 
the bowels of St. Quenet! These frockists deafen their 
neighborhood with the clatter of their bells, on the theory 


BROTHER ST. ERNEST-MARTYR. 


125 


that the mass that is well rung is half said. They mum¬ 
ble their prayers in order to earn their fat soups, not to 
save souls. You, however, my reverend man, you who 
plow the field of science, you who defend the oppressed, you 
who comfort the sorrowful, you who sacrifice your life for 
others, you who are the prop of the poor, you who indoc¬ 
trinate the little ones like a good evangelical doctor—you 
are not one of those mumblers of prayers, of those traf¬ 
fickers in masses, although you wear their costume. It 
might, therefore, well happen that some gang of Mauvais- 
Gargons, or of Tire-Laines, or of the associates of these 
in partibus, mendicant monks, might scent the honest man 
under your frock, and hurt you out of sheer hatred of good. 
For that reason you shall take my arm, by the devil, and 
I shall escort you whether you want it or not.” 

At first alarmed at the unconventionality of the Franc- 
Taupin’s words, the family of Christian soon felt easier, 
and, so far from interrupting him, took pleasure in listen¬ 
ing to him bestowing, after his own fashion, praise upon 
the friar. Hena, above all, seemed with her ingenuous 
and delighted smile to applaud her uncle, while Herve, on 
the contrary, was hardly able to repress his annoyance, 
and cast jealous side glances at St. Ernest-Martyr. 

The monk answered the Franc-Taupin: “My dear broth¬ 
er, if the larger part of my brotherhood are, indeed, such 
as you depict them, I would request you rather to pity and 
pardon them; if they are different from what you take* 
them for, if they are worthy beings, pray devoutly that they 
may persevere in the right path. You offer me your arm; 


126 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


I accept it. If I were to refuse you, you might think that 
I resent your satirical outburst.” 

“Resent! You, my reverend man! One might as well 
expect ferocity from the lamb. Good night, sister; good 
night, children,” added the Franc-Taupin as he embraced 
Bridget, Hena and Herve successively. “The only one 
wanting to my hugs is my little Odelin. But by the bowels 
of St. Quenet! I shall not do like the paymaster of my 
company, who pockets the pay of the absent men. When 
the darling apprentice to the armorer is back again, I shall 
pay him the full arrears of hugs due him.” 

“The dear boy!” observed Bridget tenderly, as her 
thoughts flew to her absent son. “May he soon again be 
back in our midst! It looks so long to us before his re¬ 
turn.” 

“His absence grieves me as much as it does you,” inter¬ 
jected Christian. “It seems to me so long since his place 
is vacant' at our hearth.” 

“You will see him return to us grown up, but so grown 
that we shall hardly know him,” put in Hena. “How we 
shall celebrate his return! What a joy it will be to us to 
make him forget the trials of the journey! What a de¬ 
light it will be to hear him tell us all about his trip to 
Milan, his experiences on the road, and his excursions in 
Italy!” 

Herve alone had not a word on the absence of his brother. 

Rising from the seat into which he had dropped for a 
moment, the young monk took leave of the artisan, saying: 

“May the heavens continue to bless your hospitality and 


BttOTEEk 8T. E&NfiST-MAkTYk. 


W 

your happy home, the sanctuary of the domestic virtues 
that are so rare in these days !” 

“The devil, my friend! Your words are golden!” ex¬ 
claimed the Franc-Taupin, as he offered the monk the sup¬ 
port of his arm. “Whenever I step into this poor but dear 
house, it seems to me I leave the big devil of hell behind 
ine at the door; and whenever I go out again, I feel as if 
I am quitting paradise. Look out! W T ho knows but Beel¬ 
zebub, the wicked one with the cloven hoofs, is waiting for 
me outside ? But to-night, seeing me in your company, my 
reverend man, he will not dare to grab me. Come, let's 
start, reverend sir!” 

So saying, the Franc-Taupin left with the monk; Brid¬ 
get led La Catelle to Hena’s chamber; and Christian climb¬ 
ed up to the garret for a chat with Monsieur John. 

Left alone in the lower apartment, his fists clenched and 
his lips drawn tight together, Herve murmured moodily: 

“Oh, that monk—that accursed monk!” The lad re¬ 
lapsed into gloomy thoughts; suddenly he resumed: “What 
a scheme! Yes, yes—it will remove even the shadow of a 
suspicion. I shall follow the inspiration, whether it pro¬ 
ceed from the devil or from God—” 

Herve did not finish his sentence. He listened in the 
direction of the staircase by which Mary La Catelle, Brid¬ 
get and Hena and his father had just mounted to the floor 
above. 



CHAPTER VIII. 


IN THE GARRET. 

Cautiously climbing the ladder that led up to the gar¬ 
ret, Christian found the stranger seated upon the sill of 
the narrow window that opened upon the river. The moot, 
then on the wane, was rising in a sky studded with stars, 
and shed her pale light upon the austere visage of the un¬ 
known guest. Drawn from his absorbing thoughts, he 
turned towards Christian: 

“I thought I heard some noise toward the bridge. Has 
anything happened ?” 

“Some seigneurs, out on a carousal, attempted to do vio¬ 
lence to a woman. Several of our neighbors rushed to her 
aid with me and my brother-in-law. Thanks be to God, 
Mary La Catelle is safe.” 

“What!” cried Monsieur John with deep concern, break¬ 
ing in upon the artisan’s report. “Was that worthy widow, 
who is associated with John Dubourg, the draper of St. 
Denis Street, with Etienne Laforge, the rich bourgeois of 
Tournay, and the architect Poille in the charitable work 
of gathering abandoned orphans, in peril? Poor woman, 
her charity, the purity of her principles and her devotion 


IN THE GARRET. 


129 


to the little ones entitle her to the esteem of all right- 
minded people.” 

“The task that she has imposed upon herself bristles 
with dangers. The monks and friars of her quarter sus¬ 
pect her of partaking of the ideas and hopes of the reform¬ 
ers. Already has she been locked up in the Chatelet, and 
her school been closed. Thanks, however, to the interven¬ 
tion of one of her relatives, who is in the service of Prin¬ 
cess Marguerite, a protector of the reform, Mary was set 
at liberty and her school was re-opened. But the persecu¬ 
tions of the heretics are redoubling, and I apprehend fresh 
dangers for our friend, whose faith is unshakable.” 

“Yes, the persecutions are redoubling,” rejoined Mon¬ 
sieur John thoughtfully. “Monsieur Christian Lebrenn, 
I know I can unbosom myself to you with all frankness. 
1 am a stranger in Paris; you know the city. Could I find 
within the walls, or even without, some secluded spot 
where about a hundred persons could be gathered secretly 
and safely ? I must warn you, these persons belong to the 
Beformation.” 

The artisan reflected for a moment and answered: “It 
would be difficult and dangerous to assemble so large a 
number of people within Paris. Gainier, the chief spy 
of the Criminal Lieutenant, expends undefatigable activity 
to discover and denounce all assemblages that he suspects. 
His agents are spread everywhere. So considerable a 
gathering would undoubtedly call their attention. Out¬ 
side of Paris, however, we need not apprehend the same 
watchfulness. I may be able to indicate some safe place 


ISO TRE POCKET BIBLE * 

to you. But before proceeding further, I should make a 
confidential disclosure to you. A friend of mine and my¬ 
self contemplate printing secretly a few handbills intended 
to propagate the reform movement. We are in the hope 
that, scattered through Paris, or posted over night on the 
walls i these placards may stir public opinion. Only one 
obstacle has, so far, held us back—the finding of some 
safe and secluded place, where, without danger of being 
detected, we might set up our little printing establishment. 
I understand from my friend that he has at last found a 
suitable place for our purpose. It may turn out to be 
suitable for yours also.” 

“Is the house outside the walls of Paris?” 

It is not a house; it is an abandoned quarry situated 
on Montmartre. My friend was born in that suburb; his 
mother still lives there; he is familiar with every nook and 
corner of that rocky hill. He is of the opinion that a cer¬ 
tain wide and deep grotto which he inspected will guar¬ 
antee to us the seclusion and safety that we are in search 
of. If he is not mistaken, the meeting that you have men¬ 
tioned to me might be held at Montmartre. To-morrow 
evening I am to go with my friend to look the place over. 
When I shall have done so, I shall acquaint you with the 
circumstances, and if the place is fit, you may fix the day 
of your gathering.” 

“Suppose that your excursion to Montmartre to-mor¬ 
row evening satisfies you that the quarry is suitable for my 
meeting, that it offers perfect safety; in what manner 


IN THE GARRET. 


191 


could the people, whom I shall convoke, be furnished with 
the necessary directions to find the place ?” 

I think that would be an easy matter, after the locality 
had been carefully inspected, I shall be able to furnish 
you to-morrow with the full particulars/’ 

Monsieur Christian, could you also tell me where I 
could find some trustworthy person whom I could com¬ 
mission to carry the letters of convocation to certain per¬ 
sons, who, in their turn, would notify their friends?” 

“I shall carry those letters myself, if you will, mon¬ 
sieur. I realize the gravity of such a mission.” 

“In the name of the Cause that we both serve, Monsieur 
Christian, I thank you heartily for your generous offer,” 
replied the stranger with effusion. “Oh, the times bode 
evil. The conversation that we had this evening with your 
brother-in-law was almost a revelation to me concerning 
the singular man, the intrepid swordsman, the former 
runner of gallant adventures, whose darksome dealings I 
was previously acquainted with.” 

“Ignatius Loyola? And what may be his scheme?” 

“Some slight overtures made by him to a man whom I 
hold worthy of all credence, and whom he hoped to cap¬ 
ture, were reported to me. I was thereby enabled to pene¬ 
trate the infernal project pursued by Ignatius Loyola, 
and—” 

Bridget’s voice, sounding from the middle of the ladder 
that led up to the garret, and cautiously calling her hus¬ 
band, interrupted the unknown. Christian listened and 
heard his wife say: 


132 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Come down quick; I heard Herve come out of his room; 
I hear him coming upstairs; he may want to see us." 

The artisan made a sign to his guest that he had noth¬ 
ing to fear, and quickly descended the stairs into a dark 
closet, the only door of which opened into the chamber 
occupied by himself and his wife. Christian had just 
time to close noiselessly the door of the closet and to sit 
down, when Herve rapped gently at his father’s door and 
called him. Bridget opened and said to her son: 

“What do you want, my child ?” 

“Dear parents, grant me a few words with you.” 

“Gladly,” responded Christian, “but let us go down¬ 
stairs. Our poor friend Mary La Catelle is sharing your 
sister’s bed; the woman needs rest; our conversation might 
disturb her sleep.” 



CHAPTER IX. 


THE PENITENT. 

Father, mother and son proceeded downstairs to the 
room on the ground floor where the distressing scene of the 
night before was enacted. Hardly had they touched the 
lowermost step of the staircase when Herve threw himself 
upon his knees, took his father’s hands, kissed them tear¬ 
fully and murmured in a smothered voice: 

“I beg your pardon—for my past conduct—pardon me 
—my good parents!” 

“God be praised! We were not deceived in the boy,” 
was the thought that rushed to the minds of Christian and 
Bridget as they exchanged a look of profound satisfaction. 
“The unfortunate lad has been touched by repentance.” 

“My son,” said the artisan, “rise.” 

“No, not before I have obtained from you and my 
mother forgiveness for my infamous act;” and he added, 
amid sobs: “It was myself, I, your son—it waa I who 
stole your gold!” 

“Herve,” replied Christian, deeply moved by the mani¬ 
festations of remorse which he took to be sincere, “last 
night, in this same room, your mother and I said to you: 


134 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


‘If you forgot yourself for a moment and committed the 
theft, admit it—you will be forgiven/ ” 

“And we shall gladly keep our promise/'’ added Bridget. 
“We pardon you, seeing that you repent. Rise.” 

“Oh, never more so than at this moment am I pene¬ 
trated with the unworthiness of my conduct. Good God! 
So much kindness on your part, and so much baseness on 
mine! My whole life shall be consecrated to the atone¬ 
ment of my infamy!” said Herve, rising from the floor. 

“I shall not conceal it from you, my boy,” proceeded 
Christian with paternal kindness. “I was quite prepared 
for this admission of your guilt. Certain happy symp¬ 
toms that your mother and myself noticed to-day, led us 
to expect your return to the right path, to the principles 
of honesty in which we brought you up.” 

“Did I not tell you so, yesterday?” broke in Bridget. 
“Could our son really become unworthy of our tender¬ 
ness, unworthy of the example that we set to him, as well 
as to his sister and brother? No; no; we will regain him; 
he will see the error of his ways. So you see, dear, dear 
boy,” she added embracing him effusively, “I knew you 
better than you knew yourself! Blessed be God for your 
return to the path of righteousness!” 

The consummate hypocrite threw himself upon his 
mother’s neck, and answering her caresses with feigned 
affection, said in a moved voice: 

“Good father, good mother, the confession of my shame¬ 
ful act earned your pardon for me. Later I hope your es¬ 
teem for me may return, when you will have been able to 


THE PENITENT. 


135 


judge of the sincerity of my remorse. Let me tell you the 
cause of my repentance, the suddenness of which may as¬ 
tonish you.” 

“A sweet astonishment, thanks be to God. Speak, speak, 
my son!” 

“You surmised rightly, father. Yes, led astray, cor¬ 
rupted by the counsel of Fra Girard, I pilfered your money 
for the purpose of consecrating it to works that I took to 
be pious.” 

“Ah, it is with pride both for us and yourself that I say 
it,” cried Bridget; “never once, while we suspected you, 
did we believe you capable of the guilty act out of love for 
gold, out of a craving for selfish enjoyment, or out of 
cupidity ! No, a thousand times no !” 

“Thanks! Oh, thanks, good mother, to do me at least 
that justice/ or, rather, to do it to the bringing up that I 
owe you! No; the fruit of my larceny has not been dis¬ 
sipated in prodigality. No; I did not keep it like a miser, 
out of love for gold. The gold pieces were all thrown into 
the chest of the Apostolic Commissioner of indulgences, 
for the purpose of obtaining the redemption of the souls 
in purgatory.” 

“I believe you, my son. The charitable and generous 
side of that idolatry, that is so profitable to the cupidity 
of the Church of Rome, must have had its fascination for 
your heart. But how did you discover the fraud of that 
monastic traffic? Explain that to me.” 

“This morning, after I deposited my offering in the 
chest of indulgences that was set up in the Church of St. 


136 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


Dominic, I heard the Apostolic Commissioner preach. Oh, 
father, all the still lingering sentiments of honor within 
me revolted at his words. My eyes were suddenly opened; 
I fathomed the depth of the abyss that blind fanaticism 
leads to. Do you know what that monk, who claimed to 
speak in the name of the Almighty, dared to say to the 
mass of people gathered in the church ? ‘The virtue of my 
indulgences is so efficacious/ the monk cried out, ‘so very 
efficacious, that, even if it were possible for any man to 
have raped the mother of our Savior, that crime without 
name would be remitted to him by the virtue of my in¬ 
dulgences. So, then, buy them, my brothers! Bring, 
bring your money! Rummage in your purses, rum¬ 
mage’—■” 

Christian and his wife listened to their son’s tale in 
silent affright. The sacrilegious words which the lad re¬ 
ported to them caused them to shiver with horror and their 
own horror explained to them the repentance and remorse 
of Herve. 

“Oh, I now see it all, my child!” cried Christian. “The 
sacrilegious monstrosity was a revelation to you! It 
shocked you back to your senses! Yes, your eyes were sud¬ 
denly opened to the light; you conceived a horror for those 
infamous priests; you recoiled with dread from the fatal 
slope down which superstition w r as driving you!” 

“Yes, father, the monstrous thought was a revelation to 
me; the veil was torn; I regained my sight. I was to be 
either the dupe or the accomplice of these abominable 
frauds. Disgust and indignation recalled me to myfeelf. 


THE PENITENT. 


137 


It was to me as if I awoke from a painful dream. When 
I recalled that, for several months, I had been dominated 
by the influence of Fra Girard, I cursed the detestable 
charm under which the man had held me captive, and 
which was alienating me from a cherished, a venerated 
family. I cursed the devilish sophisms, which, exactly as 
you expressed it, father, were corrupting in my mind the 
most elemental principles of right and wrong, and led 
me to the commission of a theft, an act that was doubly 
infamous seeing that it was perpetrated under the trust¬ 
ing security of the paternal roof! Oh, mother, in the 
measure that I thus regained the possession of my soul, 
overwhelmed with shame as I was, and torn with remorse, 
I felt there was but one way of safety—repentance! Only 
one hope—your pardon ! Only one refuge—your love. I 
have returned to you, beloved parents.” 

Christian and Bridget could not suspect their son’s sin¬ 
cerity. They reposed faith in his repentance, in the re¬ 
turn of his filial devotion, in the horror that the past in¬ 
spired him with. Father and mother devoutly rendered 
thanks to God for having restored their son to them. When 
the two closed their eyes in sleep that night their last 
thought concerned their son Herve—alas, a treacherous 
happiness. 



CHAPTER X. 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 

The day after the proscribed stranger and friend of 
Robert Efetienne had found an asylum in the home of 
Christian, the latter sallied forth after dark with his friend 
Justin for the purpose of inspecting the abandoned quarry 
where the two expected to be able to set up their secret 
press. The secluded spot was also expected speedily to 
serve as the trysting place for the leaders of the Reforma¬ 
tion in Paris. The late moon was rising when the two 
artisans arrived in the neighborhood of the Abbey of 
Montmartre. They struck a road to the left of the church, 
leading to a hillock crowned with a cross. Arrived there 
they descended a steep path at the bottom of which was 
the entrance to the quarry. 

“Unless the recollections of my childhood deceive me,” 
said Justin to Christian, “Pm under the impression that 
this quarry formerly had two openings—one being this, 
through which we are about to enter, the other, the issue 
of a sort of underground gallery, located at the opposite 
slope of the hill, and through which the descent is steep 
down to the bottom of the quarry. I even recall that a 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 139 

portion of the gallery bore traces of some very ancient 
masonry.” 

“It probably is one of those places of refuge that, cen¬ 
turies ago, were dug into the bowels of the earth by the 
inhabitants of these regions, in the days of the invasions 
of the Northman pirates .” 1 

“Quite probable. At the same time, seeing it is well to 
be prepared for all emergencies, this quarry can be ren¬ 
dered an all the safer meeting place for our friends of the 
Reformation by placing a watchman at each entrance. The 
alarm being given from either side, escape could then be 
safely made by the other. The agents of the Criminal 
Lieutenant have a hundred eyes and as many ears. We 
cannot take too many precautions.” 

“If your recollections are correct, that double entrance 
w r ould be a priceless fact. The meeting place would be 
doubly guarded.” 

“We can easily make sure of that,” said Justin. Saying 
this he fumbled in his pocket for his tinder and flint, while 
Christian drew out of his pocket the butt of a candle that 
he had provided himself with for the occasion. 

The jagged opening of the grotto was overhung by an 
abutting ledge of lime rock, covered with a few inches of 
earth overgrown with briars and furze. A rather abrupt 
path led to the species of platform that lay under the 
beetling rock. The two artisans stepped in. They did not 
light their candle at first for fear it would be extin¬ 
guished by the wind. But after having groped their way 

i For a thrilling account of one Arrow Head,” the tenth of this 
of these invasions, see ‘‘The Iron series. 



140 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


through the dark for a few paces, they struck a light, and 
presently the feeble flame of the candle threw its light 
into the wide though low-arched cavern. A huge boulder, 
about five or six feet high and from eight to ten through, 
that doubtlessly had been loosened and dropped from the 
walls of the cave, seemed to mark the further extremity of 
the underground walk. 

“I now remember the place exactly,” said Justin; “the 
inside opening of the gallery that I spoke of to you must be 
on the other side of the stone. Let's move on. We are on 
the right path.” 

Saying this, and followed by his friend, Justin stepped 
into a narrow space left between the natural wall and the 
boulder. Suddenly they heard the noise of footsteps and 
the voices of several persons drawing near from the side 
of the opening through which they had themselves shortly 
before entered the cavern. As much surprised as alarmed, 
the first motion of Justin was to extinguish the candle, 
and approaching his lips to the ear of Christian he whis¬ 
pered: “Let us not budge from this spot. We may here 
remain unseen, should these people come this way.” 

The two artisans held their breath and remained mo¬ 
tionless in their hiding place, ^wondering with as much 
astonishment as anxiety who it might be that was resort¬ 
ing at so late an hour to so solitary a spot. 

The personages who penetrated into the quarry had also 
equipped themselves with lighting materials. One of them 
lighted a large wax candle,, the reddish glare of which 
illuminated the features of the new arrivals, seven in 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


141 


number. The one who came in last, cast around him soon 
as the torch was lighted, looks indicative of the retreat 
being familiar to him. He walked with difficulty, and he 
stooped low as he leaned upon a heavy staff much resem¬ 
bling a crutch. Yet he seemed to be a man in the maturity 
of life. Black, threadbare and shabby clothes outlined his 
tall and robust stature. A Spanish ruff of doubtful white 
set off his long and olive-hued visage that terminated in a 
pointed beard. His head was almost bare of hair. His 
dominating eyes, his imperious brow, the haughty carriage 
of his head—all imparted to his strongly marked phys¬ 
iognomy the impression of absolute inflexibility. That 
personage stepped forward. It was Ignatius Loyola. 

His six companions were James Lainez, a Spaniard; 
Alfonso Salmeron, Inigo of Bobadilla, and Rodriguez of 
Azevedo, Portuguese; Francis Xavier, a French nobleman; 
and lastly, Peter Lefevre, a native of the mountains of 
Savoy, the same who, for ten years, had been the intimate 
friend of Christian Lebrenn. 

Francis Xavier held the lighted wax candle. Lefevre 
carried on his shoulder a large bundle. Motionless and 
mute the six disciples of Loyola fixed their eyes upon their 
master, not in order to discover his thoughts—they were 
incapable of such audacity—but in order to forestall his 
will, whatever it might be. 

Looking around in silent contemplation of the interior 
of the grotto, Loyola broke the silence in a solemn voice: 
“I greet thee, secret retreat, where, as formerly in the 
cavern of Manres, I have often meditated, and matured 


/ 


142 THE POCKET BIBLE. 

my purposes !” He then sat down upon a nearby stone, 
crossed his hands over his staff, leaned his chin upon his 
hands, let his eyes travel slowly over his disciples, who, 
impassive as statues stood beside him, and, after an in¬ 
stant of silent meditation resumed: “My children, I said 
to you this evening: ‘Come!’ You came, ignorant of 
whither I was leading you. Why did you follow me ? An¬ 
swer, Xavier. To hear one of my disciples is to hear t'nem 
all—to hear one of them to-day, is to hear all those who 
are to follow them from age to age—all will be but the 
distant echoes of my thought.” 

“Master, you said to us: ‘Come!’ We came. Command, 
and you shall be obeyed.” 

“Without inquiring whither I led you; without even 
seeking to ascertain what I might demand of you? An¬ 
swer, Lefevre.” 

“Master, we followed you without reflecting—without 
inquiring.” 

“Why without reflecting, without inquiring? Answer, 
Lainez.” 

“The members of the body obey the will that directs 
them; they do not interrogate that will; they obey.” 

“Xavier,” resumed Loyola, “plant your candle in some 
interstice of that boulder. Lefevre, deposit your bundle 
at your feet. It contains your sacerdotal vestments and 
the articles necessary to celebrate the holy sacrifice of the 
mass.” 

Francis Xavier planted the lighted candle firmly between 
two stones. Lefevre deposited his bundle on the ground. 
The other disciples remained standing, their eyes lowered. 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


143 


Still keeping his seat, and with his chin resting on the 
handle of his staff, Loyola resumed: 

“Francis Xavier, when I first met you on the benches 
of the University—wdiat was then your nature? What 
were your habits?” 

“Master, I was passionately given to the pleasures of 
life.” 

“And you, Inigo of Bobadilla?” 

“Master, all obstacles upset me. I was weak and pusil¬ 
lanimous. My spirit lacked energy. My nature was cow¬ 
ardly and springless.” 

“And you, John Lainez?” 

“Master, I had excessive confidence in myself. Ex¬ 
treme vanity—” 

“And you, Rodriguez of Azevedo?” 

“Master, my heart ran over with tenderness. A touch¬ 
ing act, an affectionate word, was enough to bring the tears 
to my eyes. I was kind to all, w r as ever eager to run to the 
help of our fellow men. I was of a confiding and acces¬ 
sible nature.” 

“And you, Alfonso Salmeron?” 

“Master, pride dominated me. I was proud of my vigor 
of bone and of my intelligence. I deemed myself a su¬ 
perior man.” 

“And you, John Lefevre?” 

“Master, my mountaineer tenacity never looked upon 
any obstruction but to overcome it. I brooked no contra¬ 
diction.” 


144 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Aye! Such were you. And what are you now ? An¬ 
swer, John Letfevre. To hear one of you is to hear all 
the rest.” 

“Master, we are no longer ourselves. Your soul has 
absorbed ours. We are now the instruments of your will. 
We are the body, you the spirit. We are submissive slaves, 
you the inflexible master. We are the clubs, you the hand. 
Without your animating breath we are but corpses.” 

“How did you arrive at this complete self-effacement? 
In what manner was the absorption of your personalities 
in mine effected?” 

“Master, the study of your Spiritual Exercises effected 
the miracle.” 

Loyola seemed satisfied. With his chin resting upon 
his two hands crossed over the head of his heavy staff, he 
remained silent for a moment. Presently he resumed: 
“Yes, that you were; now you are this. And I myself, 
what was I, and what have I become? I shall tell you. 
I was a haughty Grandee of Viscaya, a handsome cavalier, 
a valiant captain, a daring seducer, and lucky swordsman. 
The hand of God suddenly smote me in war and rendered 
me a cripple. Great was my despair! To renounce 
women, dueling, horses, the battle, the command of my 
regiment, which I had broken in, drilled and fashioned 
by military discipline! Nailed to a couch of tortures, 
which I welcomed in the hope of removing my deformity, 
I was seized by Grace! I felt myself full of strength and 
of energy. I w f as possessed of an invincible craving for 
dominion. At that juncture the Holy Ghost said to me: 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


145 


‘Devote thyself to the triumph of the Catholic Church. 
Thy dominion shall extend in the measure of thy faith/ 
I then asked myself what services could I render the Cath¬ 
olic Church. I looked around me. What did I see? The 
spirit of Liberty, that pestilential emanation of a fallen 
humanity, everywhere at war with Authority, that sacred 
emanation of Divinity. I promised to myself to curb the 
spirit of Liberty w’ith the inflexible curb of Authority, 
identically as I had formerly subjugated indomitable 
horses. The goal being set, what were the means to reach 
it? I looked for them. I wished first to experiment upon 
myself, to determine upon myself the extent to which, 
sustained by faith in the idea a man pursues, he can shake 
off his former self. Rich by birth, I begged my bread; a 
haughty Grandee, I exposed myself to outrage; a skilful 
swordsman, I submitted to insult; sumptuous in my habits 
of dress, careful of my personal appearance, I have lived 
in rags and in the gutter. Ignorant of letters, I took my 
seat at the age of thirty among children on the benches 
of the Montaigu College, where any slight inattention was 
visited upon me with the whip. Some of my purposes, 
being detected by orthodox priests, earned for me their 
persecution and I was ostracised. I stood it all without 
a murmur. From that time, certain that I could demand 
from my disciples the sacrifices I imposed upon myself, I 
made you that which you are required to be. You have 
said it. You are the members, I the spirit; you are the 
instrument, I the will. The hour for action has come; our 
work calls us. What work is that?” 


146 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


“That work is the insurance of the reign of authority 
upon earth.” 

“What authority?” 

“Master, there is but one. The authority of God, visi¬ 
bly incarnated in His vicar, the Pope, who is in Pome.” 

“Do you understand by that the spiritual or the tem¬ 
poral authority?” 

“Master, he who has authority over the soul must have 
authority over the body also. He who dictates the Divine 
law must dictate the human law also.” 

“What must the Pope be?” 

“Pontiff and Emperor of the Catholic world.” 

“Who, under him, is to govern the nations ?” 

“The clergy.” 

“Must temporal authority, accordingly, also belong to 
* the Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church ?” 

“All authority flows from God. His ministers are by 
divine right the masters of the nations, and must be in¬ 
vested with full authority.” 

“Is that, then, the work in hand?” 

“Yes, master.” 

“Are there any obstacles to its accomplishment?” 

“Enormous ones.” 

“What are they?” 

“First of all, the Kings.” 

“Next?” queried Loyola impatiently. “Hext?” 

“The indocility of the bourgeois classes.” * 

“Next.?” 


i 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 147 

■‘The new heresy known by the name of the Reforma¬ 
tion.^ 

“Next ?” 

“The printing press, that scourge that every day and 
everywhere spreads its ravages.” 

“Next ?” 

“The too publicly scandalous habits of the ecclesiastics.” 

“And lastly?” 

“Often the ineptness, the feebleness, the insatiable cu¬ 
pidity and the excesses of the papacy.” 

“These, then, are the obstacles to the absolute rule of 
the Catholic world by her Church?” 

“Yes, master/*’ 

“Is it possible to overcome these obstacles?” 

“We can, master, provided your spirit speaks through 
our mouths, and your will dictates our actions.” 

“All honor to the Lord—let’s begin with the Kings. 
What are they with regard to the Popes?” 

“Their rivals.” 

“What should they be?” 

“Their first subjects.” 

“Would it not be preferable for the greater glory and 
security of the Catholic Church that royalty were abol¬ 
ished ?” 

“That would be preferable.” 

“How are Kings to be absolutely subordinated to the 
Popes? Or, rather, how is royalty to be destroyed?” 

“By causing all its subjects to rise against it,” 

“By what process ?” 


148 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“By unchaining the passions of an ignorant populace; 
by exploiting the old commune spirit of the bourgeoisie; 
by fanning the hatred of the seigneurs, once the peers of 
Kings in feudal days; by setting the people against one 
another.” 

“Is there a last resort for the riddance of Kings?” 

“The dagger, or poison.” 

“Do you understand by that that a member of the 
Church may and has the right to stab a King; may and has 
the right to poison a King?” 

“Master, it is not the part of a monk to kill a. King, 
whether openly or covertly. The King should first be 
paternally admonished, then excommunicated, then de¬ 
clared forfeit of royal authority. After that his execution 
falls to others /' 1 

“And who is it that declares Kings forfeit of royal 
authority, and thus places them under the ban of man¬ 
kind, and outside the pale of human and divine law?” 

“Either the people’s voice, or an assembly of priests and 
theologians, or the decision of men of sense .” 2 

“Suppose royal authority is overthrown by murder, or 
otherwise, will not the power thereby fall either into the 
hands of the nobility and the seigneurs, or into those of the 
bourgeoisie, or into the hands of the populace ?” 

“Yes, but only for a short interval. If the power falls 
into the hands of the populace, the seigneurs, that is, the 
nobility and the bourgeoisie, are to be turned against the 

1 “Bxecutio ad alios pertinet.” 2 Mariana, De Rege, vol. I. 
—Bellarmin, vol. I, chap. VII, cliap. VI, p. 60. 

P. 147. 



LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


149 


populace. If the power should fall into the hands of the 
bourgeoisie, then the populace and the nobility are to be 
turned against the bourgeoisie; finally, in case the power 
falls into the hands of the nobility, the bourgeoisie and 
the populace are to be turned against the nobility/’ 

“Civil war being over, what will be the state of things?” 

“All powers being annihilated, the one destroyed by the 
other, only the Catholic Church will remain standing, 
imperishable.” 

“You spoke of operating upon the populace, upon the 
bourgeoisie, upon the nobility, to the end of using these 
several classes for the overthrow of royal power, and sub¬ 
sequently of letting them loose against one another. What 
lever will you operate upon them?” 

“The direction of their conscience, especially that of 
their wives, through the confessional.” 

“In -what manner do you expect to be able to direct 
their conscience?” 


“By establishing maxims so sweet, so flexible, so com¬ 
fortable, so complaisant to men’s passions, vices and sins 
that the larger number of men and women will choose us 
for their confessors, and will thereby hand over to us the 
direction of their souls . 1 To direct the souls of the living 
is to secure the empire of the world.” 


1 “ ‘Alas’, the monk explained, 
*. . . men have arrived at such 
a pitch of corruption now-a-days, 
that unable to make them come 
to us, we must e’en po to them, 
otherwise they would cast us off 
altogether; . . . our casuists 

have taken under consideration 
the vices to which people of vari¬ 
ous conditions are most addicted, 


with a view of laying down max¬ 
ims which . . . are so gentle 

that he must be a very imprac¬ 
ticable subject indeed who is not 
pleased with them.’ ”—Rlaise 
Pascal, Letters to a Provincial, 
Letter VI, pp. 219, 220, edition 
Houghton. Osgood & Co., Boston, 
1880. 



150 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Let us consider the application of this doctrine,” said 
Loyola. “Suppose I am a monk, you, I suppose,” he add¬ 
ed addressing his disciples successively, “are my confessor. 
I say to you: ‘Lather, it is forbidden, under penalty of ex- 
communication, to doff, even for an instant, the garb of 
our Order. I accuse myself of having put on lay vest¬ 
ments/ ” 


“ ‘My son/ I would answer,” responded one of the dis¬ 
ciples of Ignatius, “ ‘let us distinguish. If you doffed 
your religious garb in order not to soil it with some dis¬ 
graceful act, such as going on a pickpocket expedition, or 
patronizing a gambling house, or indulging in debauchery, 
you obeyed a seaitiment of shame, and you do not then 
deserve excommunication/ ” A 


“Now,” resumed Loyola, “I am a trustee, under obli¬ 
gation to pay a life annuity to someone or other, and I de¬ 
sire his death that I may be free of the obligation; or, say, 
I am the heir of a rich father, and am anxious to see his 


last day—I accuse myself of harboring these sentiments.” 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘a trustee may, without sin, 
desire the death of those who receive a pension from his 
trust, for the reason that what he really desires is, not the 
death of his beneficiary, but the cancellation of the debt. 


My son/ I would answer the penitent, ‘you would be com¬ 
mitting an abominable sin were you, out of pure wicked¬ 


ness, to desire the death of your father; but you commit 


1 Practice According to the 
School of the Society of Jesus 
(Praxis ex Sodetatis Jesu Scho « 
la). The passage reads: “Si habl- 
tum dimmittat ut furetur occulte, 
Tel fornicetur.”—Treatise 6, ex^ 


ample 7, number 103. Also In 
Diana : “Ut eat incognitus ad lu- 
panar.”—Cited by Blaise Pascal, 
Letters to a Provincial, Letter 
VI, p. 215, edition Houghton, Os* 
good & Co., Boston, 18§0. 



LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


151 


no manner of sin if you harbor the wish, not with parri¬ 
cidal intent, but solely out of impatience to enjoy his in¬ 
heritance/ ’ n 

“I am a valet, and have come to accuse myself of acting 
as go-between in the amours of my master, and, besides, 
of having robbed him/’ 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘to carry letters or presents 
to the concubine of your master, even to assist him in scal¬ 
ing her window by holding the ladder, are permissible and 
indifferent matters, because, in your quality of servant, it 
is not your will that you obey, but the will of another . 1 2 
As to the thefts that you have committed, it is clear that 
if, driven by necessity, you have been forced to accept 
wages that are too small, you are justified in recouping 
your legitimate salary in some other way.’ ” 3 

“I am a swordsman. I accuse myself before the peni¬ 


tential tribunal of having fought a. duel.” 

“ ‘My son,’ I would answer, ‘if in fighting you yielded, 


not to a homicidal impulse, but to the legitimate call to 
avenge your honor, you have committed no sin.’ ” 4 * * * 8 

“I am a coward. I rid myself of my enemy by mur- 


1 Father Gaspar Hurtado, On 
the Subject of Sins (De Sub. 

Pecc.), diff. 9: Diana, p. 5; trea¬ 

tise 14, r. 99.—Cited by Blaise 

Pascal, Letters to a Provincial, 

Letter VII, p. 234, edition Houeh- 
ton, Osgood & Co., Boston. 1880 

1 Father Anthony Escobar of 
Mendoza. Exposition of Uncontro- 
rerted Opinions in Moral Theo¬ 

logy, treatise 7, example 4. no. 
223.—Cited by Pascal. Letters to 
a Provincial. Letter VI, p. 226, 
edition Houghton, Osgood & Co., 
Boston. 1880. 

8 Father Etienne Bauny, Sum¬ 
mary of Sins (1633), sixth edi¬ 


tion, pp. 213, 214.—Cited by Pas¬ 
cal, Letters to a Provincial, Let¬ 
ter VI. p. 226, edition Houghton, 
Osgood & Co., Boston. 1880. 

4 “Non ut malum pro malo red- 
dat. sed ut conservet honorem.” 
are the words of Reginaldus. in 
Practice According to the School 
of the Society of Jesus, book 21. 
no. 62, p. 260. Also Lessius, 
Concerning Justice (De Justitia). 
book 2, chap. 9. division 12. no. 
79.—Cited by Pascal. Letters to 
a Provincial, Letter VII. pp. 233, 
234, edition Houghton, Osgood & 
Co.. Boston, 1880. 



152 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


dering him from ambush. I come to make the admission 
to you, my confessor, and to ask absolution.” 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘if you committed the mur¬ 
der, not for the sake of the murder itself, but in order to es¬ 
cape the dangers which your enemy might have thrown 
you into, in that case you have not sinned at all. In such 
cases it is legitimate to kill one’s enemy in the absence of 
witnesses/ ’ n 

“I am a judge. I accuse myself of having rendered a 
decision in favor of one of the litigants, in consideration 
of a present made to me by him.” 

“ ‘Where is the wrong in that, my son V I would ask. 
‘In consideration of a present you rendered a decision fa¬ 
vorable to the giver of the gift. Could you not, by virtue 
of your own will, have favored whom you pleased? You 
stand in no need of absolution/ ” * 2 


“I am a usurer. I accuse myself of having frequently 
derived large profits from my money. Have I sinned ac¬ 
cording to the law of the Church ?” 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘this is the way you should 
in future conduct yourself in such affairs: Someone asks 


a loan of you. You will answer: “I have no money to 


loan, but I have some ready to be honestly invested. If 
you will guarantee to reimburse me my capital, and, be¬ 


sides that, to pay me a certain profit, I shall entrust the 


1 Sanchez, Moral Theology, book 

2, chap. 39, no. 7.—Cited by Pas¬ 
cal, Letters to a Provincial, Let¬ 
ter VII, p. 237, edition Hough¬ 
ton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 1880. 

s Molina, vol. 1, treatise 2, di¬ 
vision 88, no. 6 Also Escobar, 


Moral Theology, treatise 6, ex¬ 
ample 6, no. 48.—Cited by Pas¬ 
cal, Letters to a Provincial, Let¬ 
ter VIII, pp. 249, 250, edition 
Houghton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 
1880. 





LOYOLA A'SD HIS DISCIPLES. 


153 


sum in your hands so that you may turn it to use. But 
I shall not loan it to you /’ 1 For the rest, my son, you 
have not sinned, if, however large the interest you may 
have received from your money, the same was looked upon 
by you simply as a token of gratitude, and not a condition 
for the loan . 2 Go in peace, my son.’ ” 

“I am a bankrupt. I accuse myself of having concealed 
a considerable sum from the knowledge of my creditors.” 

**My son/ I would answer, ‘the sin is grave if you re¬ 
tained the sum out of base cupidity. But if your purpose 
was merely to insure to yourself and your family a com¬ 
fortable existence, even some little luxury, you are ab¬ 
solved.’ ”* * 


“I am a woman. I accuse myself of having committed 
adultery, and of having in that way obtained considerable 
wealth from my paramour. May I enjoy that wealth with 
an easy conscience ?” 

“ ‘My daughter/ I would answer, ‘the wealth acquired 


through gallantry and adultery has, it is true, an illegiti 


mate source. Nevertheless, its possession may be consid¬ 
ered legitimate, seeing that no human or divine law pro¬ 
nounces against such possession.’ 


1 Father Bauny, Summary of 
Sins, ehap. 14.—Cited by Pascal, 
Letters to a Provincial, Letter 
VIII, p. 252, edition Houghton, 
Osgood & Co., Boston. 1880. 

* "Media benevolentia.”—Esco¬ 
bar, Moral Theology, treatise 3, 
example 5. no. 4.33,34.—Cited by 
Pascal, Letters to a, Provincial, 
Letter VIII, p. 253, edition 
Houghton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 
1880 

* Lessius, confirmed by Escobar, 
treatise 3, example 2, no. 163,— 


Cited by Pascal, Letters to a 
Provincial. Letter VIII, pp. 254, 
255, edition Houghton, Osgood & 
Co.. Boston, 1880. 

4 Lessius, book 2. chap. 14, di¬ 
vision 8 : approved and endorsed 
by Escobar: "Quamvis mulier il- 
licite acquirat. licite tamen reti- 
net acquisita.” treatise 1, exam¬ 
ple 8. no. 50.—Cited by Pascal, 
Letters to a Provincial, Letter 
VIII, pp. 257. 258, edition Houch- 
ton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 1880, 



154 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“I have stolen a large sum. I accuse myself of the 
theft, and ask for your absolution.” 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘it is a crime to steal, unless 
one is driven thereto by extreme necessity; and even less 
so if grave reasons prompt the act.’ ”* 

“I am rich, but I give alms sparingly, if at all. I ac¬ 
cuse myself.” 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘charity towards our fellows 
is a Christian duty. Nevertheless, if superfluity is need¬ 
ed by you, you commit no sin by not depriving yourself 
of those things which, in your eyes, are necessaries . 2 I 
absolve you.’ ” 

“I coveted a certain inheritance. I accuse myself of 
having poisoned the man from whom I was to inherit. 
May I retain the property ?” 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘the possession of property, 
acquired by unworthy means, and even through man¬ 
slaughter, is legitimate, so far as possession is concerned. 
You may retain the property.’ ” 3 

“I am summoned to take an oath. My conscience for¬ 
bids, my interest orders me to commit perjury. You are 
my confessor. I wish to consult you on the matter.” 

“ ‘You can, my son, reconcile your interest and your 
conscience. This way—I suppose you will be asked: “Do 


1 Lessius, book 2. chap. 14, di¬ 
vision 8. Also Escobar, treatise 
1, example 9, no. 9.—Cited by 
Pascal, Letters to a Provincial, 
Letter VIII, p. 256, edition 
Houghton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 
1880. 

a Vasquez, Treatise upon Alms, 
chap. 4. So, also, Diana.—Cited 
by Pascal, Letters to a Provin¬ 


cial, Letter VI, p. 214, edition 
Houghton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 
1880. 

3 Escobar, treatise 3, example 1, 
no. 23 ; treatise 5, example 5, no. 
53.—Cited by Pascal, Letters to 
a Provincial, Letter VIII, p. 258, 
edition Houghton. Osgood £. Co., 
Boston, 1880. 



LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


155 


} r ou swear you did not commit such and such an act ?” You 
will answer aloud: “I swear before God and man that I 
have not committed that act/*’ and then you add mentally: 
“On such and such a day ” Or, you are asked: “Do you 
swear you will never do such or such a thing ?” You will 
answer: “I swear,” and mentally you add: “Unless 1 
change my mind; in which case I shall do the thing” ’ n 

' “I am an unmarried woman. I have yielded to a se¬ 
ducer. I fear the anger and reproaches of my family.” 

“ ‘My daughter/ I would answer, ‘take courage. A 
woman of your age is free to dispose of her body and her¬ 
self. Have all the lovers you please. I absolve you/ ” 1 2 
“I am a woman, passionately addicted to gambling. 1 
accuse myself of having purloined some moneys from my 
husband, in order to repay my losses at the gaming table.” 

“ ‘My daughter/ I would answer, ‘seeing that, between 
man and wife, everything is, or ought to be, in common, 
you have not sinned by drawing from the common purse. 3 
You may continue to do so. I absolve you/ ” 

“I am a woman. I love ornaments. I accuse myself/' 
“ ‘My daughter/ I would answer, ‘if you ornament your¬ 
self without impure intentions, and only in order to satisfy 
your natural taste for ornamentation, you do not sin/ v ' 4 

1 Sanchez, part 2, book 3, chap. * Escobar, chapter on thieving, 

6, no. 13; Filiutius, treatise 25. treatise 1, example 9. no. 13.— 

chap. 11, nos. 331, 328.—Cited Cited by Pascal, Letters to a Pro- 

by Pascal. Letters to a Provin- vincial. Letter IX, p. 281, edi- 

cial. Letter IX, pp. 276. 277, edi- tion Houghton, Osgood & Co., 

tion Houghton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 1880. 

Boston 1880 4 “Ob naturalem fastus inclina- 

2 Father Bauny. Summary of tionem”—Escobar, treatise 1, ex- 

Sins, p 148.—Cited by Pascal. ample 8. no. 5.—Cited by Pas- 

Letters to a Provincial. Letter cal. Letters to a Provincial, Let- 

IX p. 279, edition Houghton, Os- ter IX, pp. 279, 280, edition 

good & Co., Boston, 1880. Houghton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 



156 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“I accuse myself of having seduced the wife of my best 
friend" 

“ ‘My son/ I would answer, ‘let us distinguish: If you 
treacherously seduced the woman just because she was the 
wife of your best friend, then you have sinned. But if you 
seduced her, as you might have done any other woman, 
you have not outraged friendship. 1 It is a natural thing 
to desire the possession of a handsome woman. You have 
not sinned. There is no occasion for absolution/ " 

“Well done!" exclaimed Loyola. “But I notice you 
grant absolution for all that human morality and the 
Fathers of the Church condemn." 

“Master, you said: ‘Absolved penitents will never com¬ 
plain/ " 

“What is the object of the complaisance of your doc¬ 
trines in all circumstances?" 

“At this season an incurable corruption reigns among 
mankind. Rigor would estrange them from us. Our tol¬ 
erance for their vices is calculated to deliver the penitents 
to us, body and soul. By leaving to us the direction of their 
souls, this corrupt generation will later relinquish to us 
the absolute education of their children. We will then 
raise those generations as may be suitable, by taking them 
in charge from the cradle to the grave; by molding them; 
by petrifying them in such manner that, their appetites 
being satisfied, and their minds for all time delivered from 
the temptation of those three infernal rebels—Reason, 
Dignity and Freedom—those generations will bless their 

1 Father Bauny, Summary of ter IX, p. 279, edition Hougb- 
Eins, p. 165.—Alluded to by Pas- ton, Osgood & Co., Boston, 1880. 
cal, Letters to a Provincial, Let- 



LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES 157 

Sweet servitude, and will be to us, master, what we are to 
you—servile slaves, body and soul, mere corpses !” 

“Among the obstacles that our work will, or may en¬ 
counter, you mentioned the papacy.” 

“Yes, master, because the elections of the sacred college 
may call to the pontifical throne Popes that are weak, 
stupid or vicious.” 

“What is the remedy at such a juncture?” 

“To organize, outside of the papacy, of the college of 
cardinals, of the episcopacy, of the regular clergy and of 
the religious Orders, a society to whose members it shall 
be strictly forbidden ever to be elected Pope, or to accept 
any Catholic office, however high or however low the office 
may be. Thus this society will ever preserve its inde¬ 
pendence of action for or against the Church, free to op¬ 
pose or uphold its Chief/’ 

“What shall be the organization of that redoubtable 
society ?” 

“A General, elected by its own members, shall have 
sovereign direction over it.” 

“What pledge are its members to take towards him?” 

“Dumb, blind and servile obedience.” 

“What are they to be in his hands?” 

“That which we are in yours, 0, master! Instruments us 
docile as the cane in the hand of the man who leans upon 
it” 

“What will be the theater of the society’s work?” 

“The whole world.” 

“Into what parts will it divide the universe?” 


158 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Into provinces—the province of France, the province 
of Spain, the province of Germany, the province of Eng¬ 
land, the province of India, the province of Asia, and 
others. -Each will be under the government of a ‘provin¬ 
cial/ appointed by the General of the society.” 

“The society being organized, what name is it to as¬ 
sume ?” 

“The name of the Society of Jesus.” 

“In what manner is the Society of Jesus to become a 
counterpoise to the papacy, and, if need be, dominate the 
papacy itself, should the latter swerve from the route it 
should pursue in order to insure the absolute government 
of the nations of the world to the Catholic Church?” 

“Independent of the established Church, from whom it 
neither expects nor demands aught—neither the purple, 
nor the cross, nor benefices—the Society of Jesus, thanks 
to its accommodating and tolerant doctrines, will speedily 
conquer the empire of the human conscience. It will be 
the confessor of Kings and lackeys, of the mendicant monk 
and the cardinal, of the courtesan and the princess, the 
female bourgeois and her cook, of the concubine and the 
empress. The concert of this immense clientage, acting 
as one man under the breath of the Society of Jesus, and 
inspired by its General, will insure to him such a power 
that, at a given moment, he will be able to dictate his or* 
ders to the papacy, threatening to unchain against it all 
the consciences and arms over which he disposes. The 
General will be more powerful than the Pope himself.” 


LOYOLA AND EI8 DISCIPLES. 


159 


“Besides its action upon the conscience, will the Society 
of Jesus dispose over any other and secondary levers ?” 

“Yes, master, and very effective ones. Whosoever, 
whether lay or clerical, poor or rich^ woman or man, great 
or small, will blindly surrender his soul to th£ direction 
of the Society of Jesus, will always and everywhere, and 
against whomsoever, be sustained, protected, favored, de¬ 
fended and held scathless by the Society and its adherents. 
The penitent of a Jesuit will see the horizon of his most 
ardent hopes open before him; the path to honors and 
wealth will be smoothed before his feet; a tutelary mantle 
will cover his defects, his errors and his crimes; his ene¬ 
mies will be the Society^ enemies; it will pursue them, 
track them, overtake them and smite them, whoever and 
wherever they may be, and with all available means. Thus 
the penitent of a Jesuit may aspire to anything. To incur 
his resentment will be a dread ordeal.” 

“Accordingly, you have faith in the accomplishment of 
our work?” 

“An absolute faith.” 

“From whom do you derive that faith?” 

“From you, master; from you, Ignatius Loyola, whose 
breath inspires us; from you, our master, him through 
whom we live.” 

“The work is immense—to dominate the world! And 
yet there are only seven of us.” 

“Master, when you command, we are legion.” 


m 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Seven—only seven, my sons—without other power than 
our faith in our work.” 

“Master, faith removes mountains. Command.” 

“Oh, my brave disciples!” exclaimed Ignatius Loyola 
rising and supporting himself with his staff. “What joy 
it is to me to have thus imbued you with my substance, 
and nourished you with the marrow of my doctrine! Be 
up! Be up ! The moment for action has come. That is 
the reason I have caused you to gather this evening here 
at Montmartre, where I have so often come to meditate 
in this hollow, this second to that cavern of Manres, where, 
in Spain, after long years of concentration, I at last per¬ 
ceived the full depth, the immensity of my work. Yes, in 
order to weld you together in this work, I have broken, 
bent and absorbed your personalities. I have turned you 
into instruments of my will as docile as the cane in the 
hand of the man who leans upon it. Yes, I have captured 
your souls. Yes, you are now only corpses in my hands. 
Oh, my dear corpses! my canes! my serfs! my slaves! 
glorify your servitude. It delivers to you the empire of 
the world! You will be the masters of all the men! You 
will be supreme rulers of all the women!” 

Loyola’s disciples listened to him in devout silence. For 
a moment he remained steeped in the contemplation of his 
portentous ambition, meditating universal domination. 
Presently he proceeded: 

“We must prepare ourselves by means of the holy sac¬ 
rifice of the mass for the last act of this great day. We 
mnst receive the body of Jesus, we who constitute his in- 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


iei 


trepid militia! We the Jesuits!” And addressing him¬ 
self to Lefevre: “You have brought with you the neces¬ 
saries for the celebration of mass. Yonder rock”—point¬ 
ing to the boulder behind which Christian and Justin were 
concealed—“yonder rock will serve us for altar. Come, 
to work, my well-beloved disciple.” 

Lefevre opened the bundle which he had taken charge 
of. He drew from it a surplice, a chasuble, a Bible, a 
stole, a chalice, a little box of consecrated wafers, and two 
small flasks with wine and water. He clothed himself in 
sacerdotal garb, while one of the disciples took the wax 
candle, knelt down and lighted the improvised altar upon 
which the other Jesuits were engaged in disposing the rest 
of the requisites for the celebration of the divine sacrifice. 
It was done before Loyola and his disciples. The voice of 
Lefevre, as he droned the liturgy, alone disturbed the 
silence of the solitude upon which the wax candle cast a 
flickering ruddy glow. The time for communion having 
come, the seven founders of the Society of Jesus received 
the Eucharist with unction. The service over, Loyola 
rose again to his feet, and with an inspired mien said to 
his disciples: 

“And now, come, come.” 

He walked away, limping and followed by his acolytes, 
leaving behind them the religious implements on the block 
of stone. 

Soon as the Jesuits moved away, Christian and Justin 
cautiously emerged from their hiding place, astounded at 
the secret they had just had revealed to them. Christian 


162 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


could still hardly believe that Lefevre, one of his oldest 
friends, and whose sentiments inclined him to the Refor¬ 
mation, had become a priest, and was one of the most 
ardent sectarians of Loyola. 

“They are gone,” Justin whispered to his companion; 
“I have not a drop of blood left in my veins. Let’s flee!” 

“What imprudence! We might run against those fanat¬ 
ics. I doubt not they will come back. Let us wait till 
they have departed.” , 

“No, no! I will not stay here another minute. I am 
overcome with fear.” 

“Then let us try to escape by the other issue, which, as 
you were telling me, runs behind this rock. Come, be 
brave!” 

“I am not sure whether that passage is not now ob¬ 
structed. It w T ould be dangerous to enter it without a 
light. A light would betray us. Let’s return upon our 
steps.” 

More and more frightened, Justin walked rapidly to¬ 
wards the entrance of the quarry. Christian followed, un¬ 
willing to leave him alone. The moment they w r ere about 
to emerge from the subterranean cavern, their ears were 
struck by the sound of human voices coming from above. 
The moon was now high in the sky, and lighted the only 
path that led to the abbey. 

“We can not leave this place without being seen,” ob¬ 
served Justin in a low and anxious voice. “Those men 
have gathered upon the platform above the entrance of 
the cave.” 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 


163 


“Listen,” said Christian, yielding to an irresistible im¬ 
pulse of curiosity; “listen, they are talking.” 

The artisans remained motionless and mute. For a mo¬ 
ment a solemn silence reigned. Presently the voice of 
Ignatius Loyola reached them as if it descended from 
heaven. 

“Do you swear?” came from the founder of the Society 
of Jesus. “Do you swear in the name of the living God ?” 

“In the name of God,” responded the Jesuits. “We 
swear! We shall obey our master!” 

“My sons,” Loyola’s voice resumed solemnly, “from this 
place you can see the four cardinal points of that world 
whose empire I parcel out among you, valiant soldiers of 
the Society of Jesus. Down yonder, towards the north, 
lie the land of the Muscovite, Germany, England. To you, 
Germany, England and the land of the Muscovite—John 
Lainez.” 

“Master, your will be done!” 

“Yonder, to the east, Turkey, Asia, the Holy Land. To 
you, Turkey, Asia and the Holy Land—Rodriguez of 
Acevedo.” 

“Master, your will be done!” 

“Yonder, towards the west, the new America and the 
Indies. To you, the new America and the Indies—Al¬ 
fonso Salmeron.” 

“Master, your will be done!” 

“Yonder, to the south, Africa, Italy, Spain, Portugal, 
the islands of Corsica and Sardinia, and the Balearic Isles. 
To you, Africa, Italy, Spain, Portugal, the islands of Cor- 


164 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


sica and Sardinia and the Balearic Isles—Inigo of Boba- 
dilla. Behold your empire.” 

“Master, your will be done!” 

“Finally, here at our feet, Paris, the capital of France, 
a world in itself. To you, Paris, to you, France—John 
Lefevre.” 

“Master, your will be done!” 

“Beginning -with to-morrow% gird up your loins. De¬ 
part, staff in hand, alone, unknown. To work, soldiers of 
Jesus! To work, Jesuits ! The kingdom of earth is ours! 
To-morrow I depart for Rome, to offer or force upon the 
Pope our invincible support.” 

Loyola’s voice died away. Hearing the sectarians de¬ 
scending from the platform, Christian and Justin hurried 
back to their hiding place, behind the huge rock upon 
which were the implements that Lefevre had used in the 
celebration of the mass. The latter soon came back, fol¬ 
lowed by his companions. He doffed his sacerdotal vest¬ 
ments, and approached the improvised altar to gather the 
sacred vessels. So busied, his hand struck against the chal¬ 
ice, which rolled down and fell behind the rock at the 
place where the two artisans were crowding themselves 
from sight. John Lefevre walked back of the rock after 
the chalice which had fallen close to Christian’s feet. The 
latter saw the Jesuit approach; stoop down and pick up the 
vase, without seeming, in the demi-gloom, to notice his old 
friend, whom his hand almost touched, and rejoin the other 
disciples. 

“Lefevre has seen us!” thought Christian to himself. 


165 


LOYOLA AND HIS DISCIPLES. 

\ 

“It is impossible he should not have noticed us. And yet, 
not a word, not a gesture betrayed upon his countenance 
the astonishment and uneasiness into which he must have 
been plunged by our presence at this place, and the knowl¬ 
edge that we are in possession of the secret of his society.” 

While Christian was absorbed by these thoughts, Le- 
fevre, ever imperturbable, returned to his bag the objects 
which he used in celebrating the mass, walked out of the 
cavern with his companions, and whispered a few words 
into the ear of Loyola. A slight, tremor ran through the 
frame of the latter, who, however, immediately recov¬ 
ered his composure, and whispered back his answer to Le- 
fevre. The latter lowered his head in token of acquies¬ 
cence. Thereupon the founder of the Society of Jesus and 
his disciples disappeared in the windings of the road and 
reached Paris. 

Such was the origin of that infernal society. 



CHAPTER XI. 

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 

As soon as Christian returned home, late towards mid¬ 
night, he hastened to communicate to his guest the oc¬ 
currences at Montmartre. Monsieur John concluded it 
was urgent to assemble the chiefs of the Reformation in 
the abandoned quarry, where there was no danger of ap¬ 
prehending the return of the Jesuits, seeing that Ignatius 
Loyola was to depart immediately for Rome, while his dis¬ 
ciples were to scatter to the distant countries parceled out 
to them. Finally, if, as Christian persisted with good 
reason in believing, Lefevre had noticed the presence of 
the two artisans at the Jesuit conventicle, it would be an 
additional reason to keep them from returning to the spot. 
Accordingly, Monsieur John decided to convoke the chiefs 
of the Reformation in Paris for six o’clock in the after¬ 
noon of the following day at Montmartre. To this effect 
he prepared a letter giving the directions to the trysting 
place. Justin was to proceed in time to make certain that 
the second issue was practicable. Furthermore, it was 
agreed between Bridget and her husband that she would 
absent herself together with her daughter be’fore sunset, 
in order to allow the stranger to leave the house unnoticed 




MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 


167 


by Hena. On his part, Christian was to pretend an invi¬ 
tation to supper with a friend, in order to engage his son’s 
company in a walk, and was to dismiss him when ho 
thought that Monsieur John had departed. The program 
was carried out as agreed. When Bridget and Hena re¬ 
turned home after a short walk along the banks of the 
Seine, the proscribed man had quitted his hospitable ref¬ 
uge, and betaken him to the Montmartre Gate, where Chris¬ 
tian was to await him, and conduct him to the place of 
meeting. 

The artisan’s wife and daughter busied themselves at 
their trade of embroidery. They worked in silence by the 
light of a lamp—Bridget musing over Herve’s repentance, 
while Hena, lost in revery, frequently allowed her needle 
to drop inactive on her lap. The young girl was absorbed 
in her own thoughts, a stranger to what went on around 
her. The hour of nine struck from the distant clock in 
the tower of St. James-of-the-Slaughter-House. 

“Nine o’clock,” observed Bridget to herself. “My son 
can not be long in coming back. With what joy shall I 
not embrace him this evening! What a heavy load did not 
his repentance roll off my heart! The dear child!” 

And addressing Hena without removing her eyes from 
her needlework: 

“God be blessed! Dear child, you will no longer have 
cause to complain of Herve’s indifference. No, no! And 
when my little Odelin comes back from Italy we shall then 
all live together again, happy as of old. I am awaiting 


168 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


with impatience the return of Master Kaimbaud, the ar¬ 
morer, who will bring us back our gentle Odelin.” 

Not receiving any answer from her daughter, Bridget 
looked up and said to her: 

“I have been speaking to you some time, dear daughter. 
You do not seem to hear me. Why are you so absent- 
minded ?” 

Hena remained silent for an instant, then she smiled 
and answered naively: 

“Singular as it may be, why should I not tell you, 
mother? It would be the first time in my life that I kept 
a secret from you.” 

“Well, my child, what is the reason of your absent- 
mindedness ?” 

“It is—well, it is Brother St. Ernest-Martyr, mother.” 

Dropping her embroidery, Bridget contemplated her 
daughter with extreme astonishment. Hena, however, pro¬ 
ceeded with a candid smile: 

“Does that astonish you, mother? I am, myself, a 
good deal more astonished.” 

Hena uttered these words with such ingenuousness, her 
handsome face, clear as her soul, turned to her mother 
with such trustfulness, that Bridget, at once uneasy and 
confident—uneasy, by reason of the revelation; confident, 
by reason of Hena’s innocent assurance—said to her after 
a short pause: 

“Indeed, dear daughter, I am astonished at what I learn 
from you. You saw, it seems to me, Brother St. Ernest- 
Martyr only two or three times at our friend Mary La, Ca- 


MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 


169 


telle’s, before that unhappy affair of the other evening on 
the bridge.” 

“Yes, mother. And that is just the extraordinary thing 
about it. Since day before yesterday I constantly think of 
Brother St. Ernest-Martyr. And that is not all. Last 
night I dreamt of him!” 

“Dreamt of him!” exclaimed Bridget. 

So far from evading her mother’s gaze, Hena’s only an¬ 
swer was two affirmative nods of the head, which she gave, 
opening wide her beautiful blue eyes, in which the child¬ 
like and charming astonishment, that her own sentiments 
caused her, was depicted. 

“Yes, mother; I dreamt of him. I saw him picking up 
at the door of a. church a poor child that shook with cold. 
I saw him pick up the child, hold it in his arms, warm it 
w T ith his breath, and contemplate it with so pitying and 
tender an air, that the tears forced themselves to my eyes. 
I was so moved that I woke up with a start—and I really 
wept!” 

“That dream is singular, my daughter!” 

“Singular ? No! The dream is explainable enough. 
Day before yesterday Herve was telling me of the charit¬ 
able nature of Brother St. Ernest-Martyr. That same 
evening we saw the poor monk carried into our house with 
his face bleeding. That I should have been deeply im¬ 
pressed, and should have dreamt of him, I understand. 
But what I do not understand is that when I am awake, 
wide awake, I should still think of him. Look, even now, 
when I shut my eyes”—and, smiling, lien a suited the ac- 


170 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


tion to the words—“I still see him as if he stood there, 
with that kind face of his that he turns upon the little 
children.” 

“But, my dear daughter, when you think of Brother 
St. Ernest-Martyr, what is the nature of your thoughts?” 

Hena pondered for an instant, and then answered: 

“I would not know how to explain it to you, mother. 
When I think of him I say to myself: ‘How good, how 
generous, how brave is Brother St. Erpest-Martyr! Day 
before yesterday he braved the sword to defend Mary La 
Catelle; another day, on the Notre Dame Bridge, he leaped 
into the water to save an unhappy man who was drown¬ 
ing; he picks up little deserted children, or gives them in¬ 
struction with so much interest and affection that their 
own father could not display more solicitude in them.’ ” 

“Thinking over it, dear child, there is nothing in all that 
but what is perfectly natural. The brother is an upright 
man. Your thoughts turn upon his good deeds. That’s 
quite simple.” 

“No, mother, it is not quite so simple as you put it! 
Are not you all that is best in this world? Is not my' 
father as upright a man as Brother St. Ernest-Martyr? 
Are not you two my beloved and venerated parents ? And 
yet—that is what puzzles me, how comes it that I oftener 
think of him than of either of you?” 

And after a pause the young maid added in an accent 
of adorable candor: 

“I tell you, mother, it is truly extraordinary!” 


MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 171 

Several impatient raps, given at the street door inter¬ 
rupted the conversation. Bridget said to her daughter: 

“Open the window, and see who it is that knocks. Prob¬ 
ably it is your brother.” 

“les, mother; it is he; it is Herve,” said Hena, opening 
the window. 

She descended to the floor below. 

“My God!” thought Bridget to herself in no slight agi¬ 
tation. “How am I to interpret the confidence of Hena? 
Her soul is incapable of dissimulation. She has told me 
the whole truth, without being aware of the sentiments 
the young monk awakens in her. I can hardly wait to 
inform Christian of this strange discovery!” 

The sound of Herve’s steps hurriedly ascending the 
stairs drew Bridget from her brown study. She saw her 
son rush in, followed by his sister. As he stepped into the 
room he cried with a troubled countenance: 

“Oh, mother! mother!” and embracing her tenderly he 
added: “Oh, mother! What sad news I bring you!” 

“Dear child, what is it?” 

“Our poor Mary La Catelle—” 

“What has happened to her?” 

“This evening, as I was about to leave the printing 
shop, father asked me to accompany him part of the way. 
He was going to a friend’s, with whom he was to take sup¬ 
per this evening. Father said: ‘La Catelle’s house is on 
our way, we shall drop in and inquire whether she is still 
suffering from her painful experience of the other even¬ 
ing*-” 


172 TEE POCKET BIBLE . 

“Yesterday morning,” Bridget broke in, “after I took 
her home with your sister, we left Mary calm and at ease. 
She is a brave woman.” 

“Notwithstanding her firm nature and her self-control, 
she succumbed to the reaction of that night’s excitement. 
Last night she was seized with a high fever. She was bled 
twice to-day. A minute ago we found her in a desperate 
state. A fatal end is apprehended.” 

“Poor Mary!” exclaimed Hena, clasping her hands in 
despair, and her eyes filling with tears. “What a misfor¬ 
tune ! This news overwhelms me with sorrow!” 

“Unhappily her sister-in-law left yesterday for Meaux 
with her husband,” remarked Herve. “La Catelle, at 
death’s door, is left at this moment to the care of a serv¬ 
ant.” 

“Hena, quick, my cloak!” said Bridget rising precipi¬ 
tately from her seat. “I can not leave that worthy friend 
to the care of mercenary hands. I shall run to her help.” 

“Good, dear mother, you but forestall father’s wishes,” 
observed Herve, as his sister hurried to take Bridget’s 
cloak out of a trunk. “Father told me to hurry and notify 
you of this misfortune. He said he knew how attached 
you were to our friend, and that you w r ould wish to spend 
the night at her bed, and render her the care she stands 
in need of.” 

Wrapping herself in her cloak, Bridget was about to 
leave the house. 

“Mother,” said Hena, “will you not take me with you?” 


MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 


173 


“How can you think of such a thing, child, at this hour 
of night!” 

“Sister, it is for me to escort mother/’ put in Herve; 
and, with a tender voice, accompanied with the offer of his 
forehead for Bridget to kiss, the hypocrite added: 

“Is it not the sweetest of my duties to watch over you, 
good mother?” 

“Oh,” said Bridget, moved, and kissing her son’s fore¬ 
head, “I recognize you again, my son!” With this passing 
allusion to the painful incidents of the last few days, 
which she had already forgiven, the unsuspecting mother 
proceeded: “A woman of my age runs no risk on the 
street, my son; besides, I do not wish your sister to re¬ 
main alone in the house.” 

“I am not afraid, mother,” Hena responded. “I shall 
bolt the door from within. I shall feel easier that way 
than to have you go out without company at this hour of 
night. Why, mother, remember what happened to La 
Catelle night before last! Let Herve go with you.” 

“Mother,” put in Herve, “you hear what my dear sister 
says.” 

“Children, we are losing precious time. Let us not for¬ 
get that, at this hour, our friend may be expiring in the 
hands of a stranger. Good-bye!” 

“How unlucky that just to-day our uncle should have 
gone to St. Denis!” put in Herve with a sigh. But seem¬ 
ing to be struck with an idea he added: “Mother, why 
could not both Hena and I accompany you?” 

“Oh, darling brother, you deserve an embrace, twenty 


174 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


embraces, for that bright thought,” said the young girl, 
throwing her arms around Herve’s neck. “It is agreed, 
mother, we shall all three go together.” 

“Impossible. The house can not be left alone, children. 
Who will open the door to your father when he comes 
home? Besides, did not Master Simon send us yesterday 
a little bag of pearls to embroider on the velvet gown for 
the Duchess of Etampes? The pearls are of considerable 
value. I would feel very uneasy if these valuable articles 
remained without anybody to watch them. Knowing yon 
are here, Herve, I shall feel easy on that score,” remarked 
Bridget with a look of affectionate confidence that seemed 
to say to her son: “Yesterday you committed larceny; but 
you are now again an honorable boy; to-day I can entrust 
you with the guardianship of my treasure.” 

Herve divined his mother’s thoughts. He raised her 
hand to his lips and said: 

“Your trust in me shall be justified.” 

“Still, this very evening, shortly before nightfall, we 
left the house all alone for a walk along the river,” ob¬ 
jected Hena. “Why should we run any greater risk now, 
if we go out all three of us ?” 

“Dear daughter, it was then still light; the shops of our 
neighbors were still open; burglars -would not have dared 
to make a descent upon us at such a time. At this hour, 
on the contrary, all the shops being closed, and the streets 
almost deserted, thieves are in season.” 

“And it is just at such an hour that you are going to 
expose yourself, mother.” 


MOTHER AXD DAUGHTER. 


175 


“I have nothing about me to tempt the cupidity of 
thieves. Good-bye! Good-bye, my children!” Bridget said 
hastily, and embracing Hena and her brother: “To-mor¬ 
row morning, my dear girl, your father will take you to 
La Catellers, where you will find me. We shall return home 
together. Herve, light me downstairs.” 

Preceded by her son, who carried the lamp, Bridget 
quickly descended the stairs and left the house. 


CHAPTER XII. 


HERVE'S DEMENTIA. 

No sooner had Herve closed the street door upon his 
mother than he slowly re-ascended the stairs to the upper 
chamber, saying to himself: 

“It will take my mother an hour to reach La Catelle’s 
house; at least as long to return; father will not be 
home until midnight; I have two full hours to myself. 
They shall be turned to profit.” 

Pressing with a convulsive hand against his heart the 
scapulary containing Tezel’s letter of absolution, Plerve 
entered the room in which Hen a was left alone. 

From the threshold Herve saw his sister on her knees. 
Astonished at her posture, he stepped towards her and 
asked: 

“Hena, what are you doing?” 

“I was praying to God that He may guard mother, and 
restore our friend to health,” answered the young girl, 
rising; and she proceeded with a sigh: “My heart feels 
heavy. May no misfortune threaten us.” 

Saying this, the confiding girl sat down to her embroid¬ 
ery. Her brother took a seat beside her on a stool. After 
a few seconds he broke the silence: 


HERVE'S DEMENTIA. 177 

“Hena, do you remember that about three months ago 
I suddenly changed towards you?” 

Not a little surprised at these opening words, the young 
girl answered: 

“Why recall those evil days, brother? Thank heaven, 
they are over; they will not return.” 

“Do you remember,” Herve proceeded without noticing 
his sister’s words, “do you remember that, so far from re¬ 
turning, I repelled your caresses?” 

“I do not wish to remember that, Herv6; I do not think 
of it now.” 

“Hena, the reason was I had made a strange discovery 
in my heart—I loved you!” 

The young girl dropped her needle, turned suddenly 
towards her brother, and, fixing upon him her astonished 
eyes, looked at him for a moment in silence. Thereupon, 
smiling, and in accents of tender reproach, she said: 

“How! Were you so long making the discovery that you 
loved me ? And did the discovery seem to you—strange ?” 

“Yes,” answered Herve, ignoring the childlike reproach 
implied in his sister’s words; “yes, the discovery was slow 
—yes, it seemed to me strange. Long did I struggle against 
that sentiment; my nights were passed sleepless.” 

“You slept no more because you loved me? That’s 
odd!” 

“Because I loved you—” 

“Come, Herve, it is not handsome to joke about so 
painful a subject. Do you forget the sorrow that fell on 
os all when, all of a sudden, we saw you become so somber, 


178 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


so silent, and almost to seem indifferent to ns? Our dear 
little Odelin, who departed since then to Milan with Mas¬ 
ter Raimbaud, was probably less saddened by the thought 
of leaving us, than by your coolness for us all.” 

“Remorse gave me neither peace, nor rest. Alas, I say 
correctly, remorse.” 

“Remorse?” repeated the young girl stupefied. “I do 
not understand you.” 

“The tortures of my soul, coupled with a vague instinct 
of hope, drove me to the feet of a holy man. He listened 
to me at the confessional. He unrolled before my eyes the 
inexhaustible resources of the faith. Well, my remorse 
vanished; peace re-entered my heart. Now, Hena, I love 
you without remorse and without internal struggles. I 
love you in security.” 

“Well, if that is the game, I shall proceed with my em¬ 
broidery,” said the young girl; and picking up her needle, 
she resumed her work, adding in a playful tone: “Seeing 
that the Seigneur Herve loves me without remorse and in 
security, all is said—although, for my part, I do not fathom 
those big words ‘struggles 7 and ‘tortures 7 with regard to 
the return of the affection of the Seigneur Herve for a 
sister who loves him as much as she is beloved.” But 
speedily dropping the spirit of banter and sadly raising her 
eyes to her brother’s, she continued: “Here, my friend, I 
must quit jesting. You have long suffered. You seemed 
whelmed with a secret sorrow. Come, what was the cause? 
I am still in the dark thereon. Acquaint me with it.” 

“The cause was love for you, Hena!” 


HERVE'S DEMENTIA. 


179 


“Still at it? Come, Herve, I am but a very ignorant 
girl, beside you who know Latin. But when you say that 
the cause of your secret sorrow was your attachment for 
me—” 

“I said love, Hena—” 

“Love, attachment, tenderness—is it not all one ?” 

“You spoke to me day before yesterday of Brother St. 
Ernest-Martyr.” 

“I did. And only a short time ago I was talking about 
him with mother—” Suddenly breaking oif, Hena ex¬ 
claimed : “Good God ! Dear, good mother! When I think 
of her being all alone at this hour on the street, without 
anyone to protect her!” 

“Be not alarmed. Our mother runs no danger what¬ 
ever.” 

“May heaven hear you, Herve!” 

“Let us return to Brother St. Ernest-Martyr, of whom 
you were just before speaking with mother. Do you love 
the monk in the same manner that you love me?” 

“Can the two things be compared ? I have spent my life 
beside you; you are my brother—on the other hand, I have 
seen that poor monk but five or six times, and then for a 
minute only.” 

“You love him—do not lie!” 

“My God! In what a tone you speak, Herve. I have 
nothing to conceal.” 

“Do you love that monk?” 

“Certainly—just as one loves all that is good and just. 
I know the generous actions of Brother St. Ernest-Martyr. 


180 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


You, yourself, only a few days ago, told me a very touch¬ 
ing deed done by him.” 

“Do you constantly think of the monk?” 

Constantly, no. But this very evening I was saying to 
mother that I was astonished I thought so frequently of 
him.” 

“Hena, suppose our parents thought of marrying you, 
and that the young monk, instead of being a clergyman, 
was free, could become your husband and loved you— 
would you wed him?” 

“What a crazy supposition!” 

“Let us suppose all I have said—that he is not a monk 
and loves you; if our parents gave their consent to the 
marriage, would you accept that man for your husband?” 

“Dear brother, you are putting questions to me—” 

“You would wed him with joy,” Herve broke in with 
hollow voice, fixing upon his sister a jealous and enraged 
eye that escaped her, seeing the embroidery on which she 
was engaged helped her conceal the embarrassment that 
the singular interrogatory to which she was being sub¬ 
jected threw her into. Nevertheless, the girl’s natural 
frankness regained the upper hand, and without raising 
her eyes to her brother, Hena answered: 

“Why should I not consent to wed an honorable man, if 
our parents approved the marriage?” 

“Accordingly, you love the monk! Yes, you love him 
passionately! The thought of him obsesses you. Your 
grief and the sorrow that day before yesterday you felt 
when he was carried wounded into the hguge, the tears I 


HERVE’S DEMENTIA. 


181 


surprised in your eyes—all these are so many symptoms 
of your love for him!” 

“Herve, I know not why, but your words alarm me, they 
disconcert me, they freeze my heart, they make me feel 
like weeping. I did not feel that way this evening when 
I conversed with mother about Brother St. Ernest-Martyr. 
Besides, your face looks gloomy, almost enraged.” 

“I hate that monk to death !” 

"My God! What has he done to you ?” 

“What has he done to me?” repeated Herve. “You 
love him! That is his crime!” 

“Brother!” cried Hena, rising from her work to throw 
herself on the neck of her brother and holding him in a 
tight embrace. “Utter not such words! You make me 
wretched!” 

Convulsed with despair, Herve pressed his sister pas¬ 
sionately to his breast and covered her forehead and hair 
with kisses, while Hena, innocently responding to his ca¬ 
resses, whispered with gentle emotion: 

“Good brother, you are no longer angry, are you? If 
you only knew my alarm at seeing you look so wicked!” 

A heavy knock resounded at the street door, followed 
immediately by the sonorous and merry voice of the Franc- 
Taupin singing his favorite song: 

“A Franc-Taupin had an ash-tree bow, 

All eaten with worms, and all knotted its cord; 

Derideron, vignette on vignon! Derideron!” 

A tremor ran through Herve. Quickly recalling him- 


182 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


self, he ran to the casement, opened it, and leaning for¬ 
ward, cried out: “Good evening, uncle!” 

“Dear nephew, I am back from St. Denis. I did not 
wish to return to Paris without telling you all good-day!” 

“Oh, dear uncle, a great misfortune has happened! La 
Catelle is dying. She sent for mother, who left at once. 
I could not accompany her, being obliged to remain here 
with Hena in father’s absence. We feel uneasy at the 
thought that mother may have to come back all alone on 
this dark night.” 

“All alone! By the boweb of St. Quenet, of what earth¬ 
ly use am I, if not to protect my sister!” replied Josephin. 
“I shall start on a run to La Catelle’s, and see your mother 
home. Be not uneasy, my lad. When I return I shall em¬ 
brace you and your sister, if you are not yet in bed.” 

The Franc-Taupin hastened away. Herve shut the win¬ 
dow, and returned in a state of great excitement to Hena, 
who inquired: 

“Why did you induce uncle to go to-night after mother ? 
She is to stay all night at La Catelle’s. Why do you nob 
answer me? Why is your face so lowering? My God! 
What ails you? Brother, brother, do not look upon me 
with such eyes! I am trembling all over.” 

“Hena, I love you—I love you carnally!” 

“I—do not comprehend—what—you say. I do not un¬ 
derstand your words. You now frighten me. Your eyes 
are bloodshot.” 

“The kind of love you feel for that monk—that love I 
feel for you! I love you with a passionate desire.” 


HERVE’S DEMENTIA. 181 

“Herve, you are out of your mind. You do not know 
what you say!” 

“I must possess you!” 

“Good God, am I also going crazy ? Do my eyes—do my 
ears deceive me?” 

“Hena—you are beautiful! Sister, I adore you—” 

“Do not touch me! Mercy! Herve, brother, you are 
demented ! Recognize me—it is I—Hena— your own 
sister—it is I who am here before you—on my knees.” 

“Come, come into my arms!” 

“Help ! Help ! Mother! Father!” 

“Mother is far away—father also. We are alone—in 
the dark—and I have received absolution! You shall be 
mine, will ye nil ye!” 

The monster, intent upon accomplishing his felony in 
obscurity, knocked down the lamp with his fist, threw him¬ 
self upon Hena, and gripped her in his arms. The girl 
slipped away from him, reached the staircase that led to 
the lower floor, and bounded down. Herve rushed after 
her, and seized her as she was about to clear the lowest 
steps. The distracted child called for help. Holding her 
with one hand, her brother tried to gag her with the other, 
lest her cries be heard by the neighbors. Suddenly the 
street door was thrown open, flooding the room with moon¬ 
light, and disclosing Bridget on the threshold. Thunder¬ 
struck, the mother perceived her daughter struggling in 
the arms of her brother, and still, though in a smothered 
voice, crying: “Help! Help!” The wretch, now rendered 
furious at the danger of his victim’s escaping him, and 


184 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


dizzy with the vertigo of crime, did not at first recognize 
Bridget. He flung Hena behind him, and seizing a heavy 
iron coal-rake from the fire-place, was about to use it for 
a club, not even recoiling before murder in order to free 
himself from an importunate witness. Already the dan¬ 
gerous weapon was raised when, by the light of the moon, 
the incestuous lad discovered the features of his mother. 

“Save yourself, mother/ 7 cried Hena between her sobs; 
“he is gone crazy - he will kill you. Only your timely help 
saved me from his violent assault. 77 

“Infamous boy ! 77 cried the mother. “That, then, was 
your purpose in removing me from the house. God willed 
that half way to La Catelle 7 s I met her brother-in-law— 77 

“Be gone! 77 thundered back Herve, a prey to uncon¬ 
trollable delirium; and raising the iron coal-rake which he 
had lowered under the first impulse of surprise at the sight 
of his mother, he staggered towards Bridget yelling: “Be 
gone ! 77 

“Matricide! Dare you raise that iron bar against me— 
your mother? 77 

“All my crimes are absolved in advance! Incest—parri¬ 
cide—all are absolved! Be gone, or I kill you ! 77 

Hardly were these appalling words uttered, when the 
sound of numerous and rapidly approaching steps pene¬ 
trated into the apartment through the door that Bridget 
had left open. Almost immediately a troop of patrolling 
archers, under the command of a sergeant-at-arms, and 
led by a man in a black frock with the cowl drawn over 
his head, halted and drew themselves up before the house 


SERVE’S DEMENTIA. 


185 


\ 


of Christian. The Franc-Taupin had met them a short 
distance from the Exchange Bridge. A few words, ex¬ 
changed among the soldiers, notified him of the errand 
they were on. Alarmed at what he overheard, he had 
quickly retraced his steps and followed them at a distance. 
The sergeant in command stepped in at the very moment 
that Herve uttered the last menace to his mother. 

“Does Christian Lebrenn dwell here ?” asked the soldier. 
“Answer quickly.” 

Beady to sink distracted, Bridget was not at first able 
to articulate a word. Hena gathered strength to rise from 
the floor where Herve had flung her, and ran to Bridget, 
into whose arms she threw herself. Herve dropped at his 
feet the iron implement he had armed himself with, and 
remained motionless, savage of mien, his arms crossed over 
his breast. The man whose face was hidden by the cowl 
of his black frock—that man was John Lefevre, the 
disciple of Ignatius Loyola—whispered a few words in the 
ear of the sergeant. The latter again addressed Bridget, 
now in still more peremptory tones: 

“Is this the dwelling of Christian Lebrenn, a typesetter 
by trade?” 

“Yes,” answered Bridget, and greatly alarmed by the 
visit of the soldiers, she added: “My husband is not at 
home. He will not be back until late.” 

“You are the wife of Christian Lebrenn?” resumed the 
sergeant, and pointing to Hena and then to Herve: “That 
young girl and that young man are your children, are they 
not? By order of Monsieur John Morin, the Criminal 


186 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


Lieutenant, I am commissioned to arrest Christian Le- 
brenn, a printer, his wife, his son and his daughter as 
being charged with heresy, and to take them to a safe 
place.” 

“My husband is not at home!” cried Bridget, her first 
thought being to the safety of Christian, although herself 
stupefied with fear at the threatened arrest. That instant, 
and standing a few steps behind the archers, the Franc- 
Taupin, taller by a head than the armed troop before him, 
caught the eyes of Bridget. With a sign he warned her to 
keep silent. He then bent his long body in two, and van¬ 
ished. 

“Do you want to make us believe your husband is not 
at home?” resumed the sergeant. “We shall search the 
house.” Then turning to his men: “Bind the hands of 
that young man, of the young girl and of the woman, and 
keep guard over the prisoners.” 

John Lefevre, his face still concealed under the cowl 
of his frock, could not be recognized by Bridget. He knew 
the inmates of the house, at whose hearth he had often 
sat as a friend. He motioned to the sergeant to follow 
him, and taking a lanthorn from the hand of one of the 
archers, mounted the stairs, entered the chamber of the 
married couple, and pointing with his finger to a cabinet 
in which Christian kept his valuables, said to him: 

“The papers in question must be in there, in a little 
casket of black wood.” 

The key stood in the lock of the cabinet. The sergeant 



HERVE'8 DEMENTIA. 137 

opened the two doors. From one of the shelves he took 
down a casket of considerable proportions. 

“That is the one,” said John Lefevre. “Give it to me* 
1 shall place it in the hands of Monsieur the Criminal 
Lieutenant*” 

“That Christian must he hiding somewhere,” remarked 
the sergeant, looking under the bed* and behind the cur¬ 
tains. 

“It is almost certain,” answered John Lefevre. “He 
rarely goes out at night. There is all the greater reason 
to expect to find him in at this hour, seeing he spent part 
of last night out of the house.” 

“Why did they not try to arrest him during the day at 
the printing office of Monsieur Estienne?” the sergeant 
inquired while keeping up his search. “He could not have 
been missed there.” 

“As to that, my friend, I shall say, in the first place, 
that, due to the untoward absence of Monsieur the Crim¬ 
inal Lieutenant, who was summoned early this morning 
to Cardinal Duprafs palace, our order of arrest could not 
be delivered until too late in the evening. In the second 
place, you know as well as I that the artisans of Monsieur 
Estienne are infected with heresy; they are armed; and 
might have attempted to resist the arrest of their com¬ 
panion. No doubt the archers would have prevailed in 
the end. But Christian might have made his escape dur¬ 
ing the struggle, whereas the chances were a thousand to 
one he could be taken by surprise at his house, in the dark, 
along with his family.” 



188 


TEE POCKET BIBLE . 


“And yet he still escapes ns,” observed the sergeant, 
after some fresh searches. Noticing the door of Hena’s 
chamber, he entered and rummaged that room also, with 
no better results, and said: “Nothing in this direction 
either.” _ , . L • ’ 

“Come, let us investigate the garret. Give me the lan- 
thorn, and follow me. If he is not there either, then we 
must renounce his capture for to-night. Fortunately we 
got the woman and the children—besides this,” added the 
Jesuit, tapping upon the casket under his arm. “We shall 
find Christian, sure enough.” 

Saying this, John Lefevre opened the panel leading to 
the nook where stood the ladder to the attic; he climbed 
it, followed by the sergeant, arrived in the garret "which 
had served as refuge to the unknown, noticed the mattress, 
some crumbs of bread and the remains of some fruit, pens 
and an inkhorn on a stool, and, scattered over the floor, 
fragments of paper covered with a fine and close hand¬ 
writing. 

“Somebody was hiding here, and spent some time, too i” 
exclaimed the sergeant excitedly. “This mattress, these 
pens, indicate the presence of a stranger of studious hab¬ 
its ;” and running to the dormer window that opened upon 
the river, he mused: “Can Christian have made his es¬ 
cape by this issue?” 

While the archer renewed his search, vainly rummaging 
every nook and corner of the garret, John Lefevre carefully 
collected the bits of paper that were strewn over the floor, 
assorted them, and kneeling down beside the stool, on 


HERVE’i8 DEMENTIA. 


180 


which he placed the lanthorn, examined the manuscript in¬ 
tently. Suddenly a tremor ran over his frame, and turn¬ 
ing to the sergeant he said: 

“There is every reason to believe that Christian Le- 
brenn is not in the house. I think I can guess the reason 
of his absence. Nevertheless, before quitting the place we 
must search the bedroom of his two sons. It is in the rear 
of the ground floor room. Let us hurry. Your expedition 
is not yet ended. We shall probably have to leave Paris 
to-night, and carry our investigation further.” 

“Leave Paris, reverend Father?” 

“Yes, perhaps. But I shall first have to notify the 
Criminal Lieutenant. What a discovery! To be able at 
one blow to crush the nest of vipers !—ad majorem Dei 
gloriam !” x 

John Lefevre and the sergeant re-descended to the 
ground floor. After a few whispered words to the soldier, 
the Jesuit departed, carrying with him the casket in which 
the chronicles of the Lebrenn family were locked. 

The chamber occupied by Herve was ransacked as vainly 
as had been the other apartments of the house. During 
these operations Bridget had striven to allay the fright of 
her daughter. Herve, somber and sullen, his hands bound 
like his mother’s and sister’s,, remained oblivious to what 
was happening around him. Giving up the capture of 
Christian, the sergeant returned to his prisoners and an¬ 
nounced to Bridget that he was to carry both her and her 
children away with him. The poor woman implored him 


1 To the greater glory of God. 



190 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


to take pity on her daughter who was hardly able to keep 
her feet. The sergeant answered harshly, that if the 
young heretic was unable to walk she would be stripped, 
and dragged naked over the streets. Finally, addressing 
his archers, he concluded: 

“Three of you are to remain in this house. When Chris¬ 
tian raps to be let in you will open the door, and seize 
his person.” 

Bridget could not repress a moan of anguish at hearing 
the order. Christian, she reflected, was fatedly bound to 
fall into the trap, as he would return home unsuspecting. 
The three archers locked themselves up on the ground 
floor. The others, led by their chief, left the house, and, 
taking Bridget and her two children with them, marched 
away to lead them to prison. 

“For mercy’s sake,” said the unhappy mother to the 
sergeant, “untie my hands that I may give my daughter 
the support of my arm. She is so feeble that it will be 
impossible for her to follow us.” 

“That’s unnecessary,” answered the sergeant. “On the 
other side of the bridge you will be separated. You are 
not to go to the same prison as your daughter.” 

“Good God! Where do you mean to take her to ?” 

“To the Augustinian Convent. You are to go to the 
Chatelet. Come, move on, move quickly.” 

Herve, who had until then remained sullenly impassive, 
said impatiently to the sergeant: 

“If I am to be taken to a convent, I demand to go to 
the Cordeliers.” 




UERVE’S DEMENTIA. 191 

“The Criminal Lieutenant is to decide upon that,” re¬ 
plied the sergeant. 

After a short wait, the archers took up their march. 
Alas! How shall the pain and desolation of Hena and 
her mother be described at learning they were not to be 
allowed even the consolation of suffering this latest trial 
in each other’s company? Nevertheless, a ray of hope 
lighted Bridget’s heart. Her last words with the sergeant 
had been exchanged near the cross that stood in the middle 
of the bridge, and close to which the archers were passing 
at the time. Christian’s wife saw the Franc-Taupin on his 
knees at the foot of the crucifix, gesticulating wildly, rais¬ 
ing his head and crying out like a frantic devotee: 

“Lord! Lord! Thy eye has seen everything. Thy ear 
has heard everything ; there is nothing hidden from Thee. 
Have pity upon me, miserable sinner, that I am! Thanks 
to Thee he will be saved. I hope so! In the name of the 
most Holy Trinity.” 

“There is a good Catholic who will not fail to be saved,” 
said the sergeant, making the sign of the cross and looking 
at the kneeling figure of the Franc-Taupin, who furiously 
smote his chest without intermission, while the archers 
redoubled their pace and marched away, dragging their 
prisoners behind them. 

“God be blessed!” said Bridget to herself, understand¬ 
ing the information that Josephin meant to convey. “My 
brother has seen everything and heard everything. He will 
remain in the neighborhood of the house. He expects to 
save Christian from the danger that threatens him. He 


192 


TEE POCKET BIBLE . 


will inform Christian that his daughter has been taken to 
the Augustinian Convent and I to the Chatelet prison.” 

Such indeed was the purpose of the Franc-Taupin. When 
the archers had disappeared he drew near to Christian’s 
house and contemplated it sadly and silently by the light 
of the moon. Accidentally his eyes fell upon a scapulary 
that had dropped near the threshold. He recognized it, 
having more than once seen it hanging on the breast of 
Herve. The strings of the relic had snapped during the 
struggle of Hena with her brother, and the bag being thus 
detached from Herve’s neck it had slipped down between! 
his shirt and his jacket, and dropped to the ground. The 
Franc-Taupin picked up the relic, and opened it mechan¬ 
ically. Finding therein the letter of absolution, he ran his 
eye hurriedly over the latter, and at once replaced it in the 
scapulary. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 

While the events narrated in the previous chapter were 
occurring at his house, Christian Lebrenn was climbing 
in the company of his mysterious guest the slope of Mont¬ 
martre, along the path that led to the abbey. 

“Monsieur Lebrenn,” said Monsieur John, who had 
been in deep silence, “I should feel guilty of an act of in¬ 
gratitude and of mistrust were I any longer to withhold 
from you my name. Perhaps it is not unknown to you. 
I am John Calvin.” 

“I feel happy, monsieur, in having given asylum to the 
chief of the Reformation, to the valiant apostle who has 
declared war to Catholicism, and who propagates the new 
ideas in France.” 

“Alas, our cause already counts its martyrs by the thou¬ 
sands. Who knows but I may soon be added to their num¬ 
ber ? My life is in the hands of the Lord.” 

“Our enemies are powerful.” 

“Among these, the most redoubtable ones will be the 
Jesuits, the sectarians whose secret you surprised. Their 
purposes were not so well concealed but that I already had 
intimation of the endeavors of their chief to gather around 


194 


THE POCKET BIBLE , 


himself active, devoted and resolute men. Hence the lively 
interest I felt in the narrative of your relative, the one¬ 
time page of Ignatius Loyola, when the latter was still a 
military chieftain. That revelation, coupled with yours, 
has given me the key to the character of the founder of the 
Society of Jesus, his craving after power, and the means 
that he uses in order to satisfy his ambition. The military 
discipline, that turns the soldier into a passive instrument 
of his captain, is to be applied to the domination of souls, 
which are to be rendered no less passive, no less servile. 
His project is to center in himself, to direct and to sub¬ 
jugate human conscience, thanks to a doctrine that exten¬ 
uates and encourages the most detestable passions. Ig¬ 
natius Loyola said the word: ‘The penitent of a Jesuit 
will see the horizon of his most ardent hopes open before 
him; all paths will be smoothed before his feet; a tutelary 
mantle will cover his defects, his errors and his crimes; 
to incur his resentment will be a dreaded ordeal/ ” 

“I shuddered as I heard that man distribute the empire 
of the world among his disciples in the name of such an 
impious doctrine. It cannot choose—the painful admis^ 
sion must be made—but impart to the Jesuits a formidable 
power until man be regenerated. Thanks, however, to 
God, the Reformation also now counts fervent adepts.” 

“The disciples of the Reformation are still few in num¬ 
ber, but their influence upon the masses of the people is 
nc less extensive, due to the moral force of our doctrine. 
All straightforward, pure and generous souls are with us. 
Men of learning, poets, merchants, enlightened artisans 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


195 


like yourself, Monsieur Lebrenn; rich men, bourgeois, art¬ 
ists, professors; even military men will gather this evening 
at our meeting to confess the true Evangelium.” 

“Civil war is a fearful extremity. All the same, the day 
may come when the men of arms will be needed by the 
Reformation.” 

“May that untoward day never arrive! My opinion is 
that patience, resignation and respect for the laws and the 
Crown should be carried to the utmost limit possible. Nes r - 
ertheless, should the sword have to be drawn, not for the 
purpose of imposing the Evangelical church through vio¬ 
lence, but for the purpose of defending our lives, and the 
lives of our brothers, I should not, then, hesitate to call 
upon the men of arms who are partisans of the Reforma¬ 
tion. Among these, it is my belief, we shall number a 
young man who has barely emerged from adolescence, and 
who gives promise of becoming a great captain at ma* 
turer age. He is called Gaspard of Coligny. His father 
bore himself bravely in the late wars of Italy and Ger¬ 
many. He died leaving his sons still in their childhood. 
Madam Coligny raised them in the Evangelical faith. 
About a year ago I found a place of refuge under her roof, 
at her castle of Chatillon-on-the-Loing, in Burgundy. I 
there met her eldest son, Gaspard. The precocious intel¬ 
lectual maturity of the lad, his devotion to our cause, 
awakened in me the best of hopes. He will be one of the 
pillars of the new temple—besides a terrible enemy raised 
against the Pope and Satan.” 

“Monsieur,” put in Christian, interrupting John Cal- 


196 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


vin in a low voice, “we are shadowed. I have noticed for 
some little while three men not far behind us, who seem 
to be timing their steps to ours.” 

“Let us stop, let us allow them to pass. We shall ascer¬ 
tain whether the}' are bent upon following us. They may 
be friends, like ourselves bound to our assembly.” 

Christian and John Calvin halted. Shortly they were 
passed by three men clad in dark colors, and all three 
carrying swords. One of these seemed, as he passed closely 
by John Calvin, to scan his face intently in the moonlight. 
A moment later, after having proceeded a little distance 
with his friends, he left them, retraced his steps, and walk¬ 
ing towards Christian and his companion, said, courteously 
touching his cap with his hand: 

“Monsieur Calvin, I am happy to meet you.” 

“Monsieur Coligny!” exclaimed the reformer gladly. 
“You did come—as I hoped you would.” 

“It was natural I should respond to the summons of him 
whose doctrines I share, and for whom my mother enter¬ 
tains so much esteem and affection.” 

“Are the two gentlemen you are -with of our people, 
Monsieur Coligny?” 

“Yes. One is French, the other a foreigner, both de¬ 
voted to our cause. I have felt safe to bring them to our 
assembly. I vouch for them, as for myself. The foreigner 
is a German Prince, Charles of Gerolstein, a cousin of the 
Prince of Deux-Ponts, and, like him, one of the boldest 
followers of Luther. My other friend, a younger son of 
Count Neroweg of Plouernel, one of the great seigneurs of 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


197 


Brittany and Auvergne, is as zealous in favor of the Re¬ 
formation as his elder brother for the maintenance of the 
privileges and dominion of the Church of Rome” 

“Sad divisions of the domestic hearth!” observed John 
Calvin with a sigh. “It is to be hoped the truth of the 
Evangelium may penetrate and enlighten all the hearts of 
the great family of Christ !” 

“May that era of peace and harmony soon arrive, Mon¬ 
sieur Calvin,” replied Gaspard of Coligny. “The arrival 
of that great day is anxiously desired by my friend Gaston, 
the Viscount of Plouernel and captain of the regiment of 
Brittany. With all his power has he propagated the Re¬ 
formation in his province. To draw you his picture with 
one stroke, I shall add that my mother has often said to 
me I could not choose a wiser and more worthy friend than 
Gaston Neroweg, the Viscount of Plouernel.” 

“The judgment of a mother, and such a mother as 
Madam Coligny, is not likely to go astray regarding her 
son’s choice of his friends,” answered John Calvin. “Our 
cause is the cause of all honorable people. I would like to 
express to your friends my great gratification at the sup¬ 
port they bring to us.” 

Gaspard of Coligny stepped ahead to inform his friends 
of John Calvin’s wish that they be introduced to him. 

Upon hearing the name of the Viscount of Plouernel, 
Christian had started with surprise. Accident was bring¬ 
ing him in friendly contact with one of the descendants of 
the Nerowegs, that stock of Frankish seigneurs which the 
sons of Joel the Gaul had, in the course of generations, so 


198 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


often encountered, to their sorrow. He felt a sort of in¬ 
stinctive repulsion for the Viscount of Plouernel, and cast 
upon him uneasy and distrustful looks as, accompanied by 
Gaspard of Coligny and Prince Charles of Gerolstein, he 
stepped towards John Calvin. While the latter was ex¬ 
changing a few words with his new friends, Christian ex¬ 
amined the descendant of Neroweg with curiosity. His 
features reproduced the typical impress of his race— 
bright-blonde hair, aquiline nose, round and piercing eyes. 
Nevertheless, the artisan was struck by the expression of 
frankness and kindness that rendered the young .man’s 
physiognomy attractive. 

“Gentlemen,” said John Calvin, whose voice interrupted 
the meditations of Christian, “I am happy, in my turn, to 
introduce you to one of ours, Monsieur Lebrenn, a -worthy 
coadjutor in the printing office of our friend Robert Es- 
tienne. Monsieur Lebrenn has incurred no little danger 
in affording hospitality to me. Moreover, it is to him we 
are indebted for the discovery of the locality where we are 
to meet to-night.” 

“Monsieur,” replied Gaspard of Coligny addressing 
Christian with emotion, “my friends and I share the sen¬ 
timents of gratitude that Monsieur John Calvin enter¬ 
tains for you.” 

“Besides that, Monsieur Lebrenn,” added Neroweg, the 
Viscount of Plouernel, “I am delighted to meet one of the 
assistants of the illustrious Robert Estienne. All that we, 
men of arms and war, have to place at the service of the 
cause of religious liberty is our sword; but you and your 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


199 


companions in your pursuit, you operate a marvelous talis¬ 
man—tlie press ! Glory to that invention! Light follows 
upon darkness. No longer is Holy Writ, in whose name 
the Church of Rome imposed so many secular idolatries 
upon the people, an impenetrable mystery. Its truth owes 
to the press its second revelation. Finally, thanks to the 
effect of the press, the hope is justified that Evangelical 
fraternity will one day reign on earth !” 

“You speak truly, Monsieur Plouernel. Yes, the in¬ 
vention of the press bears the mark of God’s hand/’ ob¬ 
served John Calvin. “Rut the night advances. Our friends 
are surely waiting for us. Let us move on, and join them.” 

With Gaspard of Coligny on one side, and the Viscount 
of Plouernel on the other, John Calvin, the great promoter 
of the new doctrines, proceeded to climb the slope of the 
hill of Montmartre. 

Much to his regret, the extreme astonishment that the 
affable words of the descendant of the Plouernels threw 
him into, deprived Christian of the power to formulate an 
answer. He followed John Calvin in silence, without no¬ 
ticing that, for some time, Prince Charles of Gerolstein 
was examining him with increasing attention. This seign¬ 
eur, a man in the full vigor of life, tall of stature, of a 
strong but open countenance, fell a little behind his friends 
and joined Christian, whom he thus addressed after walk¬ 
ing a few steps beside him: 

“Believe me, monsieur, if, a minute ago, I failed to 
render just praise, as my friends did, to the courageous 
hospitality you accorded John Calvin, I do not, therefore, 


200 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


appreciate any the less the generosity of your conduct. It 
was that your name fell strangely upon my senses. It 
awoke within me numerous recollections—family remem¬ 
brances.” 

“My name, Prince?” 

“Spare me that princely title. Christ said: ‘All men are 
equal before God/ We are all brothers. Your name is 
Lebrenn? Is Armorican Brittany the cradle of your fam¬ 
ily?" 

“Yes, monsieur. It is.” 

“Did your family live near the sacred stones of Karnak, 
before the conquest of Gaul by Julius Caesar?” 

Christian looked at Charles of Gerolstein without at¬ 
tempting to conceal his astonishment at meeting a stranger 
acquainted with incidents that ran back so many centuries 
in his family’s history. The Prince pursued his interrog¬ 
atory : 

“Towards the middle of the Eighth Century, one of your 
ancestors, Ewrag by name, and son of Yortigern, one of 
the most intrepid defenders of the independence of Brit¬ 
tany, and grandson of Amael, who knew Charlemagne, left 
his native land to take up his home in the lands of the far 
North.” 

“Yes, after the great Armorican insurrection. During 
that uprising the Bretons appealed for aid to the North¬ 
man pirates, who had established themselves at the mouth 
of the Loire. Ewrag afterwards embarked for the North 
with those sea-faring peoples.” 

“Did he not leave behind two brothers?” 


t 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL . 201 

“Rosneven and Gomer.” 

“Ewrag, who first settled down in Denmark, had a 
grandson named Gaelo. In the year 912 he was one of the 
pirate chiefs who came down and besieged Paris under the 
command of old Rolf, later Duke of Normandy. Gaelo 
was recognized as a member of your family by Eidiol, at 
that time dean of the Parisian skippers.” 

“Yes, indeed. Gaelo w*as taken wounded into the house 
of my ancestor Eidiol. While dressing the wound of the 
Northman pirate, the words ‘Brenn—Karnak’ were dis¬ 
covered, traced with indelible letters on his arm. It was 
a custom, often followed in those disastrous days, when 
wars or slavery frequently scattered a family to the four 
winds. They hoped, thanks to the indelible marks, to rec¬ 
ognize one another should fresh upneavals happen to throw 
them again in one another’s way.” 

“After wedding the Beautiful Shigne, one of the Buckler 
Maidens who joined the expedition of Rolf, Gaelo returned 
to the North. Since then there have been no tidings of 
him.” 

“Yes. For all these past centuries we have remained 
in ignorance concerning that branch of our family. But, 
monsieur, I can not understand how you, a German Prince, 
can possess such exact information of my humble family, 
which, besides, is of Gallic race. I wish you would ex¬ 
plain yourself.” 

Christian was interrupted by John Calvin, who, turn¬ 
ing back, said to him: 

“Here we are at the top of the hill. Which path are 


202 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


we to follow now out of the many in sight? Be so good 
as to lead us out of this maze.” 

“I shall walk ahead, and show you the path to follow,” 
answered Christian. 

As Christian hastened his steps to take the lead of the 
group, the Prince of Gerolstein said to him: 

“I can not at this moment carry on the conversation 
that for a thousand reasons I am anxious to hold with you. 
Where could I meet you again?” 

“I live on the Exchange Bridge, facing the right side 
of the cross as you come from the Louvre.” 

“I shall call upon you to-morrow evening, Monsieur Le- 
brenn;” and extending his hand to the artisan, Prince 
Charles of Gerolstein added: “Give me your hand, Chris¬ 
tian Lebrenn, we are of the same blood. The cradle of my 
own stock is old Armorican Gaul. The course of the cen¬ 
turies, and the accidents of conquest have raised my house 
to sovereign rank, but it is of plebeian origin.” 

After cordially clasping the hand of the amazed Chris¬ 
tian, the Prince rejoined John Calvin and his friends. At 
that moment, Justin, who had been stationed on the look¬ 
out at the head of the rocky path that led to the quarry, 
walked rapidly up to his fellow workman, saying: 

“I had begun to feel uneasy. All the persons who have 
been convoked to the meeting have arrived long ago. I 
counted sixty-two. I am here on the lookout. Master 
Robert Estienne requested one of our friends to plant him¬ 
self near the mouth of the excavation leading to the un¬ 
derground issue of the cavern. You know that gallery, 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


203 


cut behind the large rock, which recently sheltered us 
from the eyes of Loyola and his disciples. 1 inspected 
the passage this morning. It is open.’’ 

“In case of danger you will run and notify the assem¬ 
bly. I understand.” 

“From his side also Master Robert Estienne’s friend will 
give the alarm in case of need. It is not likely the quarry 
will be invaded by both passages at once. One will al¬ 
ways remain free. Our friends can deliberate in perfect 
safety.” 

“If the gathering is not disturbed by some accident, 
friend Justin, I shall return by this path and we shall re¬ 
enter Paris together.” 

“Agreed. Our arrangements are made.” 

A moment later, Christian, John Calvin and his friends 
entered the quarry. There they found assembled the lead¬ 
ing partisans of the Reformation in Paris—lawyers, lit¬ 
erary men, rich merchants, seigneurs, courtiers and men 
of arms and of science. Thus, besides Gaspard of Colig- 
ny, Prince Charles of Gerolstein and the Viscount of Plou- 
ernel, there were present the following personages of dis-» 
tinction: John Dubourg, a Parisian draper of St. Denis 
Street; Etienne Laforge, a rich bourgeois; Anthony Poille, 
an architect, and brother-in-law of Mary La Catelle, who, 
herself, had been invited as one of the most useful pro¬ 
moters of the Reformation; Clement Marot, one of the 
most renowned poets of those days; a young and learned 
surgeon named Ambroise Pare, the hope of his art and 
science, a charitable man who opened his purse even to the 


204 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


sufferers whom he attended; and Bernard Palissy, a potter, 
whose work will be imperishable, and who is as well versed 
in alchemy as he is celebrated in sculpture. A small num¬ 
ber of chiefs of guilds were also present. The guilds, be¬ 
ing plunged in ignorance, were still under the influence of 
the monks, and entertained a blind hatred for the Refor¬ 
mation. A few wax candles, brought along by several of 
the persons present, lighted the bowels of the cavern and 
threw a flickering glamor upon those grave and thought¬ 
ful faces. When John Calvin entered the cavern he was 
recognized by some of the reformers. His name imme¬ 
diately flew from mouth to mouth. Those who had not 
yet seen him drew nearer to contemplate him. The reso¬ 
lute stamp of his character was reflected upon his pensive 
countenance. A profound silence ensued. The reformers 
ranked themselves in a circle around their apostle. He 
stepped upon a block of stone in order to be better heard, 
and proceeded to address them: 

“My dear brothers, I have just traversed the larger por¬ 
tion of France. I have conferred with most of our pastors 
and friends in order to determine in concert with them 
the articles of faith of the Evangelical religion, the basis 
of which was laid by the immortal Luther. If the formula 
of our common belief is adopted by you, such as it has 
been adopted by most of our friends, the unity of the re¬ 
formed church will be an established thing. This is our 
Credo r 1 

“ ‘We believe and confess that there is one only God, 

1 Confession of Faith of the Beze, Ecclesiastical Annals, vol. 
English Reformers.—Theodore de 1, pp. 109-118. 



CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


205 


a sole, spiritual, eternal, invisible, infinite, incomprehen¬ 
sible, immutable essence, who is all-powerful, all-wise, all¬ 
good, all-just and all-merciful/ ” 

“That We believe; that we confess,” answered the re¬ 
formers. 

“ ‘We believe and confess/ ” continued Calvin, “ ‘that 
God manifests Himself as such to man by creation, and by 
the preservation and guidance of creation; furthermore, 
by the revelation of His Word, gathered by Moses, and 
which constitutes what we call Writ, contained in 

the canonical books of the Old and the New Testament/ ” 
“That is the Book; the only Book; the Code of good and 
evil; the instructor of men and of children alike; the divine 
source of all goodness, all power, all consolation, all hope!” 
responded the reformers. 

“Moses was a disciple of the priests of Memphis. I can 
well see how he gave out this or that Egyptian dogma, as 
emanating from divine revelation—but that remains, how¬ 
ever, a hypothesis. I do not accept the pretended sacred¬ 
ness of the texts,” said Christian Lebrenn, apart; while 
Calvin continued: 

“ ‘We believe and confess that the Word contained in 
the sacred books, which proceed from God to man, is 
the norm of all truth; that it is not allowable for man to 
change the same in aught; that custom, judgments, edicts, 
councils and miracles must in no manner be opposed to 
Holy Writ, but, on the contrary, must be reformed by it/ ” 
“We want the Word of God pure and simple. We want 
it disengaged of all the Romish impostures, that, for cen- 


200 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


turies, have falsified and perverted it,” the reformers re¬ 
plied. 

“Here,” said Christian, again to himself, “here starts 
the freedom of inquiry. That is the reason for my adher¬ 
ence to the Reformation.” Calvin resumed: 

“ ‘We believe and confess that Holy Writ teaches us 
that the divine essence consists of three persons—the 
Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and that this Trinity 
is the source of all visible and invisible things. That is 
our belief / ” 

“It is an article of faith with us; it is the foundation 
of our religion,” chorused the reformers, while Christian 
Lebrenn added, to himself: 

“This also belongs to the domain of hypothesis—and of 
religious absurdities. One more article of faith to be re¬ 
jected.” 

“ ‘We believe and confess/ ” continued Calvin, “ That 
man, having been born pure and clean in the image of 
God, is, through his own sin, fallen from the grace he had 
received, and that all the descendants of Adam are tainted 
with original sin, down to the little children in their moth¬ 
ers’ wombs. That is our belief on these subjects/ ” 

“We are bound to accept all that is found in the sacred 
books. The will of the Lord is impenetrable—let it be 
done in all things. Our reason must humble itself before 
that which seems incomprehensible,” was the response of 
the reformers. 

“Oh, God of Love and Mercy!” exclaimed Christian Le¬ 
brenn, apart. “To proclaim in Thy name that Thy will 



CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


207 


smites the unborn child even in its mother’s womb! Just 
God! Thou who knowest all things—past, present and to 
come—Thou knewest Thy creature, man, who is not but 
because Thou hast said, Be! was bound to fall into sin. 
Thou knewest it. Generations upon generations, all guilt¬ 
less of the sin of the first man, were to undergo the terri¬ 
ble chastisement that it has pleased Thee to inflict upon 
them. Thou knewest it. And yet. Thou art supposed to 
have said: ‘Man, you will fall into sin. The original stain 
shall mark your children even in their mothers’ wombs’! 
Merciful God! Pardon the infirmity of my intellect. I 
cannot believe a father will devote his own children to 
eternal misery. I cannot believe a father can take pleasure 
in allowing his children’s mind to waver between justice 
and injustice, especially when he knows beforehand they 
are fatedly certain to elect iniquity, and when he knows 
the consequence of their choice will be fearful to them¬ 
selves and to all their posterity. Just God! What is the 
constant aim of the thoughts and efforts of every honorable 
man, within the limits of his faculties? To give his chil- 
dren such an education as will keep them from the path of 
vice; an education that may justify him to say: ‘My chil¬ 
dren will be upright men!’ And yet, Thou, almighty God, 
Thou art supposed to have said: ‘I will that the evil incli¬ 
nations of my children carry the day over the good ones; 
I will that they become criminals, and that they be forever 
damned!’ Never shall I accept such a doctrine.” 

John Calvin continued his Credo: 

“ ‘We believe and confess that, as & consequence of orig- 


208 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


inal sin, man, corrupt of body, blind of mind, and de¬ 
praved of heart, has lost all virtue, and, although he has 
still preserved some discernment of right and wrong, falls 
into darkness when he aspires to understand God with the 
aid of his own intelligence and human reason. Finally, 
although he should have the will to choose between right 
and wrong, his will being the captive of sin, he is fatedly 
devoted to wrong, is destined to malediction, and is not 
free to choose the right but by the grace of God/ ” 

“Such,” responded the reformers, “is the will of the 
Lord. We fall into darkness if we strive to understand 
God with the aid of our own reason.” 

“No! No!” Christian said to himself, “God never said: 
‘My creatures, instead of loving Me and adoring Me in all 
the splendor of My glory, shall adore Me in the darkness 
of their intelligence, dimmed by My will/ No! God has 
not said: ‘Man, you shall be fatedly devoted to wrong! 
You shall be for all time a captive of sin! I enclose you 
within an iron circle from which there is no escape but by 
My grace !’ If God’s omnipotence made man sinful or. 
good, why punish or reward him? Another article of 
faith to be rejected.” 

“ ‘We believe and confess/ ” Calvin proceeded, “ ‘that 
Jesus Christ, being God’s wisdom and His eternal Son, 
clad himself in our flesh to the end of being both God and 
man in one person. We worship Him so entirely in His 
divinity, that we strip Him of His humanity. We be¬ 
lieve and confess- that God, by sending us His Son, wished 
to show His ineffable goodness toward us, and by deliver- 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


209 


ing Him to death and raising Him from the dead, wished 
that justice be done and heavenly life be gained for us/ ” 

‘‘Glory to God!” cried the reformers. “He has sent 
us His Son to redeem us with His blood! God has been 
crucified for the salvation of man!” 

Communing with himself, Christian Lebrenn only said: 
“Another absurdity laid by Calvin at the door of the God¬ 
head. Can God condemn man for the pleasure of after¬ 
wards redeeming him? 0, Christ! Poor carpenter of 
Nazareth, the friend of the afflicted, the penitent and the 
disinherited, you do not wrap yourself in an impenetrable 
cloud. I see your pale and sweet smile encircled by a 
bloody aureola, and bearing a stamp that is truly human. 
Your divine words are accessible even to the intelligence of 
children. Your Evangelical morality should and will be 
the code of all humankind. The chains of the slave will 
be broken, said you now more than fifteen hundred years 
ago; and yet, the Pharisees, who call themselves your 
priests, have, during all these centuries, owned slaves, later 
serfs, and to-day they count their vassals by the thousands. 
Love ye one another, said you; and yet, the Pharisees, 
who call themselves your priests, caused, and to this hour 
continue to cause, torrents of Christian blood to flow. I 
do not share the belief of the reformers, but I remain 
with them body and soul so long as they combat the cruel¬ 
ties, the iniquities and the idolatries of the Eoman Church! 
I remain body and soul with them so long as they devote 
their lives to the triumph of your doctrine, 0, Christ! in 
the name of equality and human fraternity! In that does 


210 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


the real strength lie, the real power of the Reformation. 
Of what concern to us are those Mosaic dogmas concerning 
original sin, the fatedness of evil, the inherent wickedness 
of man? The Reformation acts valiantly, it acts gener¬ 
ously, it acts in a Christian spirit in seeking to restore 
your Church, 0, Christ! to its simplicity and pristine 
purity by combating the Pope of Rome/’ 

Calvin continued: “ ‘We believe and confess that, thanks 
to the sacrifice our Lord Jesus Christ offered on the cross, 
we are reconciled to God and fit to be held and looked 
upon as just before Him. Accordingly, we believe that we 
owe to Jesus Christ our full and perfect deliverance. We 
believe and confess that, without disparagement of virtues 
and deserving qualities, we depend upon them for the re¬ 
mission of our sins only through our faith, and the law of 
Jesus Christ.’” 

“The law and faith in Jesus Christ is embraced in 
that” responded the reformers. “It is our code. The 
law and faith in Jesus Christ—that means love towards our 
fellow men; it means equality; it means fraternity; it 
means revolt against the idolatries, in whose name the 
greatest malefactors are and believe themselves absolved 
of their crimes by the purchase of indulgences! Only 
through faith and the practice of the Evangelical law will 
our sins be remitted.” 

“ ‘We believe and confess/ ” proceeded Calvin, “ That 
whereas Jesus Christ has been given us as the only inter¬ 
mediary between us and God, and since He recommends to 
us that we withdraw into seclusion in order to address, in 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


211 


private and in His name, our prayers to His Father, all 
the inventions of men concerning the intercession of mar¬ 
tyred saints is but fraud and deception, schemed in order 
to lead mankind aside from the straight and narrow path. 
Furthermore, we hold purgatory to be an illusion of the 
same nature, likewise monastic vows, pilgrimages, the 
ordinance of celibacy to clergymen, auricular confession, 
and the ceremonial observance of certain days when a meat 
diet is forbidden. Finally we consider illusions the in¬ 
dulgences and other idolatrous practices through which 
grace and salvation are expected, and we regard them as 
human inventions calculated to shackle human con¬ 
science/ ” 

“That is the essence of the Reformation,” said Chris- 
tion Lebrenn, apart. “The reform of action, the militant 
reform. Hence it is that my dignity as a man, my mind 
and my heart are with it. It is a long step towards the 
reign of pure reason, planted upon the freedom of in¬ 
quiry. The road is cleared. Man is in direct communion 
and communication with God through prayer, without the 
intervention of any church. No more Popes—the incar¬ 
nation of divine and human autocracy, as Ignatius Loyola 
understands it! No more dissolute and savage pontiffs, 
claiming to be Your vicars, 0, God of mercy! No more 
saints, no more purgatory! Down goes the traffic in in¬ 
dulgences ! No more monastic vows—the idle monks shall 
become honest and industrious citizens! No more priestly 
celibacy—the pastors shall themselves become heads of 
families! No more auricular confession—a bar to Igna- 


212 


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tius Loyola, whose aim is to take possession of the con¬ 
science of mankind by means of the tribunal of penitence; 
through the conscience of mankind, the soul of man; 
through the soul, the body; and thus to rear the most 
frightful theocratic tyranny! 0, sweet carpenter of Naz¬ 
areth ! May the Reformation triumph! May your Evan¬ 
gelical law in all its pristine purity become the law of the 
world! The power of the casqued, the mitred or the 
crowned oppressors will then have ceased to be! No more 
Kings, no more priests, no more masters!” 

“No more Popes! No more cardinals, or bishops! No 
more idolatry! No more celibacy! No more adoration of 
images! No more confession! No more intermediaries 
between God and man! Such is our confession, such our 
belief/’ cried the reformers in answer to Calvin, who con¬ 
tinued : 

“ ‘We believe and confess those Romish inventions to be 
pure idolatries. We reject them. Sustained by the au¬ 
thority of the sacred books, by the words and acts of the 
apostles—I Timothy 2; John 16; Matthew 6 and 10; 
Luke 11, 12 and 15; the Epistle to the Romans 14, and 
other Evangelical texts—we believe and confess that where 
the word of God is not received there is no Church. There¬ 
fore we reject the assemblages of the papacy, whence di¬ 
vine truth is banished, where the sacraments are corrupted, 
adulterated and falsified, while superstitious and idola¬ 
trous practices flourish and thrive in their midst. 7 77 

“Yes/ 7 answered the assembled reformers, “let us draw 
away from the usurping Roman Church—that impure 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


213 


Babylon; that sink of all vices; that notorious harlot; that 
poisoned well, whence flow all the ills that afflict human¬ 
ity! No more Popes, bishops, priests or monks!” 

“ ‘We believe and confess/” Calvin continued, “ ‘that 
all men are true pastors wherever they may be, provided 
they are pure of heart, and that they recognize for sole 
sovereign and universal bishop our Lord Jesus Christ. 
Therefore we repudiate the papacy; we protest that no 
church, even if it call itself “Catholic,” can lay claim to 
any authority or dominion over any other church/ ” 
“Therefore we do repudiate the Church of Kome! Christ 
is our Pope, our bishop! There should be no intermediary 
-between him and us!” responded the reformers. 

“ ‘We believe and confess/ ” Calvin went on, “ That the 
offices of pastors, deans and deacons must proceed from 
the election of their own people, whose confidence they will 
thus show they have earned. We believe that, in order to 
exercise their functions, they should concentrate within 
them the general rules of the church, without attempting 
to decree, under the shadow of the service of God, any 
rules to bind human conscience/ 99 

“Freedom of conscience—that means human eman¬ 
cipation!” Christian exclaimed to himself. “All honor to 
the Reformation for proclaiming that great principle! 
May it remain faithful thereto!” 

The reformers meanwhile answered: “Yes, we wish to 
elect our own pastors, as they were elected in the primi¬ 
tive church;” and John Calvin continued: 

“‘We believe and confess that there are but two sacra- 


214 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


ments—baptism, that cleanses us of the soilure of original 
sin; and communion, which nourishes us, vivifies us spir¬ 
itually by the substance of Jesus Christ, a celestial mystery 
accessible only through faith. 

“ ‘Finally, we believe and confess that God has willed 
that the peoples on earth be governed; that He has estab¬ 
lished elective or hereditary kingdoms, principalities, re¬ 
publics and other forms of government. We therefore 
hold as unquestionable that their laws and statutes must 
be obeyed, their tributes and imposts paid, and all the 
duties that belong to citizens and subjects must be ful¬ 
filled with a frank and good will, even if such governments 
be iniquitous, provided the sovereign empire of God re¬ 
mains untouched. Therefore we repudiate those who would 
reject government and authority, and who would throw 
society into confusion through the introduction of com¬ 
munity of goods among men, and thereby upset the order 
of justice/ ” 

“No ! No!” was Christian’s muttered comment at these 
words. “Man must not submit to an iniquitous authority! 
No! No! John Calvin himself realizes the offensiveness 
to human dignity of such a resignation, and its contradic¬ 
tion to the very spirit of the Reformation. Is not the Re¬ 
formation itself a legitimate revolt against the iniquity 
of the pontifical authority, and, if need be, against what¬ 
ever temporal power might seek to impose the Roman cult 
upon the reformers? Indeed, after having set up the 
principle, ‘The peoples must submit to their governments, 
even if these be iniquitous,’ Calvin adds, ‘provided the sov - 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


215 


ereign empire of God remains untouched / No obedience 
is due an authority that would raise its hand against the 
sacred rights of man, or aught that flows therefrom.” 

“Such, dear brothers,” concluded John Calvin, “is our 
confession of faith. Do you accept it?” 

“Yes, yes!” cried the reformers. “We accept it. We 
shall practice it. We shall uphold it, at the risk of our 
property, our freedom and our life! We swear!” 

“This, then, is the confession of faith of those ‘heretics’ 
whom the Catholic clergy represents to ignorant and duped 
people as monsters steeped in all manner of crimes, and 
vomited upon earth out of hell, as inveterate foes of God 
and man,” said Calvin. “What do these ‘heretics’ confess ? 
They confess the fundamental dogmas of the Christian 
Church, as revealed by the Divinity itself. But these ‘he¬ 
retics’ reject the inventions, the abuses, the idolatries and 
the scandals of the Church of the Popes. In that lies our 
crime; an unpardonable crime! We attack the cupidity, 
the pride and the despotism of the priesthood! 

“Here, on this very spot where we are now gathered in 
council in order to confess the most sacred of rights, the 
freedom of conscience, seven priests have pledged them¬ 
selves with a terrible oath to secure the absolute omnipo¬ 
tence of Rome over the souls of men, and to found the 
reign of theocratic government over the whole earth! The 
new organization is named the Society of Jesus. It is in¬ 
tended to and will become a formidable instrument in the 
hands of our enemies. The circumstance is a symptom of 


216 


TEE POCKET BIBLE . 


the dangers that threaten us. Let us prepare to combat 
that new militia everywhere it may show itself. 

“Our Credo, our confession of faith is fixed. This con¬ 
fession will be that of all the Evangelical churches of 
France. And, now, what attitude must we assume in the 
face of the redoubled persecutions that we are threatened 
with? Shall we submit to them with resignation, or shall 
we repel force with force? I request our friend Robert 
Estienne to express his views upon this head.” 

“It is my opinion,” replied Robert Estienne, “that we 
should address fresh petitions to King Francis I, praying 
that it may please him to allow us to exercise our religion 
in peace, while conforming ourselves to the laws of the 
kingdom. Should our petition be denied, then we should 
draw from the strength of our convictions the necessary 
fortitude to sustain persecution to the extreme limit pos¬ 
sible. Beyond that we shall have to take council again.” 

“I share the opinion of Robert Estienne,” said John 
Dubourg. “Let us resign ourselves. An upright man 
should drain the cup of bitterness and pain sooner than 
let loose upon his country the horrors of a fratricidal con¬ 
flict.” 

“Monsieur Coligny, what is your opinion?” 

“Monsieur,” replied the young noble, “I am, I think, the 
youngest man in this assemblage; I shall accept the opinion 
that may prevail.” 

“Speak. You are a man of arms. We should know 
your opinion,” returned Calvin. 

“Since you insist, monsieur,” Coligny began, “I should 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


217 


here declare that my family owes a good deal to the kind¬ 
ness of the King. It has pleased him to entrust me—me 
who am barely passed the age of youth—with a company of 
his army. I am, accordingly, bound to him by bonds of 
gratitude. But there is to me a sentiment superior to that 
of gratitude for royal favors—that sentiment is the duty 
that faith imposes. While deploring the cruel extremities 
of civil war, which I hold in horror; while deeply re¬ 
gretting ever to have to draw my sword against the King, 
or, rather, against his ill-omened advisers, I should feel 
constrained to resort to that fatal extremity if, persecution 
having reached the limits of endurance, it became neces¬ 
sary to defend the lives of our brothers, driven face to 
face with the alternative, ‘Die, or abjure your faith!’ As 
to pronouncing myself with regard to the opportune mo¬ 
ment for the conflict, in case, which God forfend, the con¬ 
flict must break out, I leave the decision to more expe¬ 
rienced heads than my own. At the moment of action, my 
property, my sword, my life—all shall be at the service 
of our cause. I shall do my duty—all my duty.” 

Ambroise Pare, the surgeon, was the next to speak. “Both 
Christ and my professional duties,” he said, “command 
me to bestow my care upon friend and enemy alike. I could 
not, accordingly, brothers, bring hither any but words of 
peace. Let us be inflexible in our belief. But let us force 
our persecutors themselves to acknowledge our moderation. 
Let us tire their acts of violence with our patience and 
resignation. Let us leave the swords sheathed.” 

“Patience, nevertheless, has bounds!” objected the Vis- 


i 


218 TEE POCKET BIBLE. 

count of Plouernel. “Has not our resignation lasted long 
enough? Does it not embolden the audacity of our ene¬ 
mies? Would you resort yet again to humble petitions? 
Very well. Let us pray, let us implore, once more. But 
if we are answered with a denial of justice, let us, then, 
resolutely stand up against our persecutors. We are the 
majority, in several mercantile cities, and several prov¬ 
inces. Let us, then, repel force with force. Our enemies 
will recoil before our attitude, and will then do justice to 
our legitimate wishes. I hold that to carry our forbear¬ 
ance any further would be to expose our party to be deci¬ 
mated day by day. Then, when the hour of battle shall 
have come—it is fatedly bound to come—we shall find 
ourselves stripped of our best forces. In short, let us 
make one more peaceful effort to secure the free exercise 
of our religion. Should our appeal be denied—to arms!” 

“Brothers/’ advised Prince Charles of Gerolstein, “I 
am a foreigner among you. I come from Germany. I 
there assisted at the struggles and the triumph of the Re¬ 
formation preached by the great Luther. In our old Ger¬ 
many we did not appeal and request. We affirmed the 
right of man to worship his Creator according to his own 
conscience. Workingmen, seigneurs, bourgeois—all pro¬ 
claimed in chorus: ‘We refuse to bend under the yoke of 
Rome; whosoever should seek to impose it upon us by the 
sword will be resisted with the sword.’ To-day, the Re¬ 
formation in Germany defies its enemies. Germany is not 
France; but men are men everywhere. Everywhere reso¬ 
lution has the name of resolution, nor are its consequences 



CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


219 


anywhere different. We are bound to uphold our rights 
bv our arms.” 

“Monsieur Christian Lebrenn, what is your opinion on 
the grave subject before us?” asked Calvin. The printer 
replied: 

“Histoty teaches us that to request from Popes and 
Kings a reform of superstition and tyranny is absolutely 
idle. Never will the Church of Rome voluntarily renounce 
the idolatries and abuses that are the sources of its wealth 
and power. Never will a Catholic King—consecrated by 
the Church and leaning upon it for support, as it leans 
upon him—voluntarily recognize the Reformation. The 
Reformation denies the authority of the Pope. To attack 
the Pope is to attack royal authority. To overthrow the 
altar is to shatter the throne. All authority is interde¬ 
pendent. What is it that we demand? The peaceful ex¬ 
ercise of our creed, while conforming to the laws of the 
kingdom. But the laws of the kingdom expressly forbid 
the exercise of all creeds, except that of thei Catholic 
Church. Either we must confess our faith and then ex¬ 
pose ourselves to the rigors of the law, or escape them by 
abjuration; or, yet, resist them, arms in hand. Are we to 
obtain edicts of tolerance? We should entertain no such 
hope. But, even granted we obtained them, our security 
would be under no better safeguard. An edict is revocable. 
The end of it all is fatedly one of three conclusions—abju¬ 
ration; martyrdom, or revolt. The blood of martyrs is 
fruitful, but the blood of soldiers, battling for the most 
sacred of rights, is also fruitful. We neither should, nor 


220 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


can we, I hold, hope for either the authorization, or toler¬ 
ance, of our cult. Sooner or later, driven to extremities by 
persecution, we shall find ourselves compelled to repel vio¬ 
lence with violence. Let us boldly face the terrible fact. 
But, suppose, for the sake of our peace of conscience, we 
said: ‘It still depends upon the Church of Rome and the 
King of France to put an end to the torture of our broth¬ 
ers, and to prevent the evils of a civil and religious war. 
To that end a decree conceived in these terms will suffice: 
‘Everyone may freely and publicly exercise his religion 
under the obligation to respect the religion of others/ 
Such a decree, so just and simple, consecrating, as it does, 
the most inviolable of rights, is the only equitable and 
peaceful solution of the religious question. Do you im¬ 
agine that such a decree would be vouchsafed to our hum¬ 
ble petition ?” 

“Neither King nor Pope, neither bishops, priests nor 
monks would accept such a decree,” was the unanimous an¬ 
swer. Christian continued: 

“Nevertheless, in order to place the right on our side, let 
us draw up one last petition. If it is rejected, let us then 
run to arms, and exterminate our oppressors. It is ever 
by insurrection that liberty is won.” 

“Will Brother Bernard Palissy let us know his views?” 
asked Calvin when Christian had finished. 

With a candor that breathed refinement, the potter re¬ 
plied : “I am but a poor fashioner of earthen pots. Seeing 
the issue is to shatter them resolutely—according to the 
opinion of our friend the printer—I shall tell you what 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


221 


happened to me the other day. I was wondering how it 
came about that the Evangelical religion—benign, charit¬ 
able, peaceful, full of resignation, asking for naught but 
for a modest place in the sun of the good God in behalf of 
its little flock—should have so many inveterate enemies. 
Being a little versed in alchemy, ‘Let’s see,’ said I to my¬ 
self, ‘when, mixing the varnish, colors and enamel with 
which I decorate my pottery, I encounter some refractory 
substance, what do I do? I submit it to the alembic. I 
decompose it. In that way I ascertain the different sub¬ 
stances of which it consists. Well now, let me submit the 
enemies of the Reformation to the alembic in order to 
ascertain what there is in their composition to render them 
so very refractory.’ First of all, I submit to my philo¬ 
sophic alembic the brains of a canon. I ask him: ‘Why 
are you such a violent enemy of the Evangelical faith?’ 
‘Why!’ the canon makes answer, ‘because, your clergymen 
being men of science as well as preachers, our flocks will 
also want to hear us preach as men of knowledge. Now, 
then, I know nothing about preaching, and still less about 
reading or writing. Since my novitiate I have been accus¬ 
tomed to taking my comfort, to ignorance, to idleness. 
That’s the reason I sustain the Church of Rome, which 
sustains my ignorance, my delightful comfort and my 
idleness.’ Through with that monk, I experimented with 
the head of an abbot. It resisted the alembic. It shook 
itself away, bit, roared with vindictive choler, resisting 
strenuously to have that which it contained within seen 
by me. Nevertheless, I succeeded in separating its several 


222 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


parts, to wit: the black and vicious choler, on one side; 
ambition and pride, on the other; lastly, the silent thoughts 
of murder that our abbot nourished towards his enemies. 
That done, I discovered that it was his arrogance, his greed 
and his vindictiveness that kept him in a refractory tem¬ 
per toward the humility of the Evangelical church. I af¬ 
terwards experimented upon a counsellor of parliament, 
the finest Gautier one ever laid eyes upon. Having dis¬ 
tilled my gallant in my alembic I found that his bowels 
contained large chunks of church benefices, which had fat¬ 
tened him so much that he almost burst in his hose. See¬ 
ing which I said to him: ‘Come, now, be candid, is it not 
in order to preserve your large chunks of church benefices 
that you would institute proceedings against the reform¬ 
ers? Isn’t it damnable?’ ‘What is there damnable in 
that?’ he asked me. ‘If it were damnable there must be a 
terrible lot of damned people, seeing that in our sovereign 
court of parliament, and in all the courts of France, there 
are very few counsellors or presidents without some slice 
of an ecclesiastical benefice which helps them to keep up 
the gilding, the trappings, the banquets and the smaller 
delights of the household, as well as the grease in the 
kitchen. Now, then, you devil’s limb of a potter’ (he was 
talking to me) ‘if the Reformation were to triumph, would 
not all our benefices run to water, and, along with them, 
all our small and large pleasures? That’s why we burn 
you up, you pagans !’ At hearing which I cried: ‘Oh, poor 
Christians, where are you at? You have against you the 
courts of parliament and the great seigneurs, all of whom 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


223 


profit from ecclesiastical benefices. So long as they will be 
fed upon such a soup they will remain your capital ene¬ 
mies.’ That is my reason, brothers, for believing we shall 
be persecuted all our lives. Let us therefore take refuge 
with our captain and protector Jesus Christ, who one day 
will wipe out the infliction of the wicked and the wrong 
that will have been done us. 1 Therefore, let us suffer; let 
us be resigned, even unto martyrdom; and, according to 
the judgment of a poor potter, let us not break the pots. 
Of what use are broken pots?” 

“Will our celebrated poet Clement Marot acquaint us 
with his views ?” asked Calvin. 

“Brothers,” said the man thus called upon, “our friend 
Bernard Palissy, one of the great artists of these days— 
and of all future days—spoke to you in his capacity of a 
potter. I, a poet, shall address you on the profit that can 
be drawn from my trade for our cause. Why not make one 
more endeavor to use the methods of persuasion before re¬ 
sorting to the frightful extremity of civil war? Why not 
endeavor to draw the world over to our side by the charm 
of the Evangelical word? Listen, the other day a thought 
flashed through my mind. The women are better than we. 
This acknowledgment is easily made in the presence of 
our sister, Mary La Catelle, whom I see here. She is the 
living illustration of the truth of what I say. None 
among us, even the foremost, excels her in tenderness or 
pity for the afflicted, in delicate and touching care for 
deserted children. I therefore say the women are better 

1 This charming passage is to Bernard Palissy; quoted In the 
be found in The Boole of Master Protestant Review, vol. I, p. *8. 



224 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


than we, are more accessible than we to pure, lofty and 
celestial sentiments. Furthermore, to them life is summed 
up in one word— love. From terrestrial love to divine love 
it is but one aspiration higher. Let us endeavor to elevate 
the women to that sublime sphere. The common but just 
saying, Little causes often produce great results, has in¬ 
spired me with the following thought. I asked myself: 
‘What do the women usually sing, whether they be bour¬ 
geois or workingmen’s wives?’ Love songs. The impure 
customs of our times have given these songs generally a 
coarse, if not obscene turn. As a rule, the mind and the 
heart become the echo of what the mouth says, of what the 
ear hears, of what engages our thoughts. Would it not 
be a useful thing to substitute those licentious songs with 
chaste ones that attract through love? Hence I have con¬ 
sidered the advisability of putting in verse and to music 
the sacred canticles of the Bible which are so frequently 
perfumed with an adorable poetic flavor. My hope is that 
little by little, penetrated by the ineffable influence of 
those celestial songs, the women who sing them will soon 
be uttering their sentiments, not with the lips only but 
from the depth of their hearts. Our aspirations will then 
be realized.” 

Clement Marot was about to recite some of the charm¬ 
ing verses composed by himself, when Justin suddenly 
broke in upon the assemblage crying: 

“Danger! Danger! A troop of archers and mounted 
patrolmen are coming up the road to the abbey. I have 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


225 


seen the glitter of their casques. Flee by the opposite 
issue of the quarry !” 

A great tumult ensued upon the artisan’s words. Justin 
took up one of the candles, ran to the gallery that was 
masked by the huge boulder, and entered the narrow pas¬ 
sage, ordering all the others to follow him. 

“Brothers!” cried out the Viscount of Plouernel, “let 
all those of us who are men of arms remain here and draw 
our swords. The patrol will not dare to lay hands upon 
any of us. The court must reckon with our families. As 
to you, Calvin, and the rest of our friends whom no priv¬ 
ilege shelters from the pursuit of our enemies, let them 
flee!” 

“You can leave the place in all safety,” added Gaspard 
of Coligny; “the armed patrol, finding us ready to cross 
irons with them, will not push their search any further.” 

“Should they push forward so far as to discover this 
other issue,” put in Prince Charles of Gerolstein, “we shall 
charge upon them vigorously, and shall force them back 
far enough to leave the passage free for our retreat.” 

John Calvin, whose life was so precious to the Evan¬ 
gelical church, was the first to follow upon the heels of the 
torch-bearer Justin. The other reformers pressed close 
behind. The gallery, narrow at the entrance, widened by 
degrees, until it opened into an excavation surrounded by 
•bluffs, up one of which a narrow path wound itself to the 
very top of the ravine, with the tierred fields and woods 
stretching beyond on the further slope of the hill of Mont¬ 
martre. Robert Estienne, Clement Mlarot, Bernard Pal- 


226 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


issy and Ambroise Pare remained close to Calvin. Chris¬ 
tian Lebrenn assisted Mary La Catelle to cross the rocky 
ground. When the fugitives were all again assembled in 
the hollow of the excavation, John Calvin addressed them, 
saying: 

“Before separating, brothers, I renew to you the ex¬ 
press recommendation not to attempt a rebellion, which, 
especially at this season, would only subserve the cause of 
our enemies. Resignation, courage, perseverance, hope— 
such must be our watchwords for the present. Our hour 
will come. Assured, after this night’s council, of the 
adhesion of the reformers of Paris to the Credo of the 
Evangelical church, I shall continue my journey through 
France to engage our brothers in the provinces to imitate 
the example of Paris by opposing the violence of our ene¬ 
mies with patience.” And turning to Christian: “Mon- 
sieur Lebrenn, you uttered a sentiment the profoundness 
of which has impressed me strongly. A simple decree to 
the effect that all are free to profess publicly their own 
creed while respecting the creed of others, you said, would 
prevent frightful disasters. Let the blood, that may some 
day flow, fall upon those who, by denying justice, will have 
kindled the flames of civil war! Anathema upon them ! 
For the very reason that equity and right are on our side 
we are in duty bound to redouble our moderation.” 

After touching adieus, exchanged by Calvin and his 
co-religionists, it was agreed to return to Paris in separate 
groups of threes and fours, to the end of not awakening 
the suspicion of the guards at the Montmartre and St. 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL. 


227 


Honore Gates, who were no doubt apprized of the expedi¬ 
tion of the patrol against a nocturnal assembly of heretics 
held on Montmartre. Day was about to dawn. John Cal¬ 
vin, Robert Estienne, Clement Marot, Ambroise Pare, Ber¬ 
nard Palissy and a few others ascended the path that led 
out of the ravine, and took their way across-fields in the 
direction of the St. Honore Gate. Other little groups 
formed themselves, each striking in a different direction. 
Christian, Justin, John Dubourg, Laforge, who was an¬ 
other rich bourgeois, Mary La Catelle and her brother-in- 
law the architect Poille, took the road to the Montmartre 
Gate, where they arrived at sunrise. Although their group 
consisted of only six persons, they decided, out of exces¬ 
sive caution, not to enter Paris but by twos—first John 
Dubourg and Laforge; then Mary La Catelle and her 
brother-in-law; lastly Justin and Christian. Their en¬ 
trance, thought they, would awaken no suspicion, seeing 
that already the peasants, carrying vegetables and fruit for 
the market, crowded in the neighborhood of the gate with 
their carts. Soon separated from their friends in the 
midst of the medley of market carts, Justin and Christian 
were but a few steps from the arched entrance of the gate 
when suddenly they heard a loud clamor, and these words, 
repeated by a mob of voices: “Lutherans! Lutherans! 
Death to the heretics V 9 A pang of apprehension shot 
through the hearts of Christian and his companion. Some 
of their companions who preceded them must have been 
recognized at the gate. To rush to their assistance would 
have been but to share their fate. 


228 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Let us not attempt to enter Paris at this hour,” sug¬ 
gested Justin to Christian, “we are workmen in the print¬ 
ing shop of Robert Estienne. That would be enough to 
cause us to be suspected of heresy. Gainier, the spy of the 
Criminal Lieutenant, has surely given the mob our de¬ 
scription. Let us go around the rampart and enter by the 
Bastille of St. Antoine. That gate is so far from Mont¬ 
martre that it is possible the alarm has not been given 
from that side.” 

“My wife and children would be in mortal agony not 
to see me home this morning,” answered Christian. “I 
shall make the attempt to go through, under shelter of the 
tumult which, unhappily for our friends, seems to be on 
the increase. Do you hear those ferocious cries?” 

“I do not care to run the danger. Adieu, Christian. I 
have neither wife nor children. My prolonged absence 
will cause uneasiness to no one. I prefer to go to the 
Bastille of St. Antoine. We shall meet shortly, I hope, at 
the printing shop. May God guard you!” 

The two friends separated. Christian, whose anxiety 
increased every minute, thinking of Mary La Catelle and 
those with her, decided to enter Paris at all risks. Never¬ 
theless, noticing not far from where he stood a peasant 

driving a cart filled with vegetables and overspread with a 

\ 

cloth held up by hoops, he said to the rustic, drawing a 
coin from his pocket: 

“Friend, I am exhausted with fatigue. I need a little 
rest. Would you be so good as to take me in your cart 
only as far as the center of the city?” 


CALVINISTS IN COUNCIL . 


229 


‘‘Gladly, climb in and go to sleep, if you can,” answered 
the peasant as he pocketed the coin. 

Christian climbed in, ensconced himself in a corner of 
the wagon and raised a little fold of the cloth in order to 
catch a glimpse.of wffiat was going on outside, seeing the 
tumult "waxed louder and more threatening. Alas! Hard* 
ly had the wagon passed through the gate and entered the 
city when Christian saw T at a little distance Mary La Ca- 
telle, her brother-in-law Poille, John Dubourg and La- 
forge—all four manacled. A troop of archers held back 
with difficulty the furious mob that loudly clamored for 
the lives of the “heretics,” those “heathens,” those “Luth¬ 
eran stranglers of little children 7 '! Pale, yet calm, the 
four victims looked serenely upon the surging mass of 
fanatics. With her eyes raised to heaven and her arms 
crossed over her bosom, Mary La Catelle seemed resigned 
to martyrdom. The imprecations redoubled. Already the 
most infuriate of the populace were picking up stones to 
stone the victims to death. The wagon in which Chris¬ 
tian was concealed slowly pursued its way and saved the 
artisan the harrowdng spectacle of the mob’s murderous 
preparations. Later he learned the details of the arrest 
of his friends. La Catelle and her brother-in-law, w T ho had 
long ago been reported by the spy Gainier as hardened 
heretics, had been recognized and seized by the agents of 
the Criminal Lieutenant, who had been posted since mid¬ 
night at the Montmartre Gate. John Dubourg and La- 
forge, wdio came a few steps behind La Catelle, having 


230 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


yielded to a generous impulse and run to her assistance, 
were, in punishment for the very nobility of their act, 
likewise suspected, arrested and manacled. Christian also 
learned later that Lefevre was the informer against the 
meeting of the reformers at Montmartre. The bits of 
paper Lefevre had picked up while directing the search 
of the sergeant in the garret of Christian’s house, proved 
to be bits of Calvin’s draft convoking the assembly, and 
on one of these the word Montmartre was to be read. 
Armed with this evidence, Lefevre had hastened to impart 
his suspicions to the Criminal Lieutenant, and caused the 
patrol to be ordered afield; but these, finding themselves 
confronted with the seigneurs at the entrance of the quarry, 
and seeing these determined to resist them, had not dared 
to effect an arrest. 

Christian jumped out of the wagon in the center of 
Paris and hastened his steps towards his house. Hardly 
had he stepped upon the Exchange Bridge when he saw 
the Franc-Taupin running towards him. Josephin had 
watched all night for the artisan’s return. He informed 
him of the arrest of his wife and children, of the danger 
that awaited him if he entered his house, and induced 
him to take refuge in a place of safety. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


HENA’S DIARY. 

After being separated from her mother, Hena Lebrenn 
was taken to the Angustinian Convent and locked up. One 
day during her confinement she narrated the incidents of 
her incarceration in a letter destined for Bridget, but 
which never reached the ill-starred mother, due to a 
series of distressful circumstances. Hena wrote: 

“December, 1534. At the Convent of the Augustinians. 

“Joy of heaven! I am given the assurance, dear moth¬ 
er, that you will receive this letter. My thoughts run 
wild in my head. I wish I could tell you, all at once, all 
that has happened to me since our separation until this 
moment. Alas! I have so many things to communicate 
to you. You all—yourself and my good father, and my 
uncle Josephin—will be so astonished, and perhaps so 
chagrined, to know that this very day— 

“But I must go back with my narrative, and begin with 
that unhappy day when we were led away, you to the 
Chatelet prison, I to this place. I am ignorant of what 
may have happened to you and to father. All my ques¬ 
tions on those topics have ever remained unanswered. 


232 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


They assure me you are in good health—that is all. I 
hope so; I believe it. What interest could they have in 
deceiving me regarding your lives? 

“Well, I was brought to this place in the dark of night, 
and locked up in a little cell, without having seen a soul 
except the turning-box attendant. What would it avail 
to tell you how I wept ? In the morning the attendant in¬ 
formed me that I would be visited at noon by the Madam 
Superior. I asked leave to write to my family in order to 
inform them of my whereabouts. I was answered that the 
Mother Abbess would have to decide about that. She called 
upon me at noon. At first, I thought I had before me a 
lady of the court, so superbly ornamented she was. There 
was nothing in her dress to recall the religious garb. She 
is young and handsome. Methought I could read kindness 
on her face. I threw myself at her feet, imploring her to 
have pity upon me, and to have me taken to my parents. 
This was her answer: 

“ ‘My dear daughter, you have been brought up in im¬ 
piety. You are here in order to labor at your salvation. 
When you are sufficiently instructed in our holy Roman 
Catholic and apostolic religion, you shall take the eternal 
vows to enter our Order of the Augustinians. You will 
then be allowed to see your parents again. You are not to 
leave this cell before taking the veil. You will be allowed 
out every day only to take a little walk under the archway 
of the cloister, in the company of one of our sisters. It 
depends upon yourself how promptly you will have gained 
the religious instruction necessary to enter our Order, after 


HENA’S DIARY. 


233 


which you will be allowed to receive your family once a 
week in the convent parlor/ 

“ ‘But, madam/ I answered the Abbess, ‘I have not the 
religious vocation. Even if I had, I wmuld not take vows 
without the sanction of my father/ 

“ ‘Your father is in heaven; He is our Lord God. Your 
mother also is in heaven; she is the holy Virgin Mary. 
Your obedience is due to those divine parents, not to your 
carnal and heretical parents. These have infected } r ou 
with a pestilential heresy. The Lord, in His mercy, has 
willed, for the salvation of your soul, that you be removed 
from that school of perdition. The pale of our holy 
mother the Church is open to you. Come back to it. Be 
docile and you shall be happy. Otherwise, greatly to my 
regret, I shall employ rigor, and constrain you to your 
own welfare. Beginning with to-morrow, one of our 
brothers of the Order of St. Augustine will come to im¬ 
part religious instruction to you. You are to have no in¬ 
tercourse with your parents before you have taken the 
vows. It depends, then, upon yourself how soon you will 
see your parents again. Think it over well/ 

“Without wishing to hear me any further, the Mother 
Superior left me alone. 

“The choice left to me was to embrace the monastic life, 
or give up the hope of ever seeing you again, dear father! 
dear mother! The bare thought made me shudder. 1 
thought of resisting the orders of the Abbess. I thought 
that, if they were made to know my determination, they 
•would set me free. Great was my error! 


234 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“Towards evening one of the sisters came and proposed 
to take a walk with me under the archway of the cloister. 
1 declared to her that no human power could compel me 
to take vows that would forever separate me from my be¬ 
loved parents. The nun, a woman with a sharp and wick¬ 
ed face, recommended to me to think before speaking, add¬ 
ing that, if I obstinately refused salvation, they -would 
know how to lead me to obedience by severe treatment. 
Our promenade ended, I returned to my cell. My supper 
was brought to me. I went to bed steeped in sadness. 

“At midnight I was rudely waked up. The old turn¬ 
ing-box attendant came in, accompanied by four others, 
large and strong women. One of them carried a lanthorn. 
1 was afraid. I sat up on my couch, and asked what they 
wanted of me. 

“ ‘Rise and follow us,’ answered the old nun. I hesi¬ 
tated to obe 3 r . She then added: ‘No resistance, otherwise 
these sisters will take you by force/ 

“I resigned myself. I started to put on my dress, but 
the nun threw upon my couch a sort of horsehair sack 
which she had brought with her. 

“ ‘That is the only dress you are henceforth to use V 
she said. 

“I robed myself in the haircloth, and was about to put 
on my shoes when the nun again put in: 

“ ‘Y ou are to walk barefoot. Your rebellious flesh must 
be mortified/ 

“The expression on the faces of that woman and of her 
companions looked to me pitiless. I realized the useless- 


HEWA’S DIARY. 


235 


ness of resistance or of prayer. Barefoot and clad in the 
haircloth I followed the nuns. One of them lighted our 
way with her lanthorn. We crossed the cloister and several 
long passages. A solitary low window, shaded from within 
by a red curtain through which a bright light shone, 
opened upon one of these passages. While* passing the 
place I heard a man’s voice singing, accompanying himself 
on an arch-lute. The song was received with peals of 
laughter that proceeded from several men and women, 
gathered in the apartment. Their words reached our ears 
distinctly. They seemed to me to be such as no honorable 
woman should hear. 

“The nun hastened her steps, and we entered a little 
court. One of the turning-box attendants opened a door : 
by the light of the lanthorn I noticed a staircase that de¬ 
scended under ground. Seized with fear I drew back, but 
pushing me forward by the shoulders the nun said: 

“ ‘Go on! Go on! We are taking you to a place where 
you will meditate at leisure over your obstinacy/ 

“I followed the turning-box attendant with the lanthorn. 
I descended the steps of the stone staircase. The moisture 
froze mv naked feet. At the bottom of the staircase was 

•V 

a vaulted gallery upon which several doors opened. One 
of them was opened, and I was made to step into a vault 
where I saw a box shaped like a coffin and filled with 
ashes, a wooden prie-dieu surmounted by a cross, and near 
the bed of ashes an earthen pitcher and a piece of bread on 
the floor. 

“ ‘This is to be your dwelling place until you shall have 


THE POCKET BIBLE■. 


c m 

recovered from your stubbornness/ said the nun to me. 
‘If solitude and mortification do not subdue your rebellious 
spirit, recourse shall be had to other chastisements/ 

“I was left alone in the vault without a light. When 
the door was closed and locked upon me, I threw myself 
upon my couch of ashes. I was shivering with cold. The 
haircloth smarted me insupportably. The darkness fright¬ 
ened me. I recalled, poor dear mother, my own little 
chamber near yours, my bed that was so neat and white, 
and the kiss that every evening you came into my room 
and gave me before I fell asleep. I sobbed aloud. Little 
by little my tears ceased to flow. Numb with cold I slum¬ 
bered till morning, the light of day reaching me through 
the airhole of my dungeon. I admit it, dear mother, and 
you will forgive my weakness, dejected by the sufferings 
of that first night, fearing I would be condemned to re¬ 
main a long time in that dungeon, I resigned myself to 
agree to all that might be demanded of me. I wished above 
all to quit that gloomy place. I awaited impatiently the 
return of the nun, in order to make my submission to her. 
No one came, neither that day nor for about a week. I 
thought I would lose my senses. Every minute I shivered 
with fear. The very silence of that species of tomb in¬ 
spired me with wild terrors. I moaned and called out to 
you, dear father and mother, as if you could hear me. I 
then fell down upon my couch of ashes, worn out. How 

sad was my soul! 

•* 

“By little and little, however, I became accustomed to 
my prison, to my haircloth robe, to my bread, black and 


HENA’S DIARY. 


237 


hard. Calmness returned to me. I said to myself: ‘I am 
the victim of a wicked scheme. My parents have taught 
me it was our duty to sustain courageously the trials of 
life, and never to bow down before cowardice or slander. 
I shall perish in this convent, or leave it to return to my 

family/ I now waited for the nun, no longer in order to 

» 

make my submission to her, but to announce to her my 
firm determination to resist her wishes. Vain expectations! 
For about another week no one came near. Instead of 
weakening, my determination grew more exalted in my 
solitude. I spent my days thinking of you. Often did the 
tension of my mind become so strong that I imagined I 
saw, I heard you. I then was no longer in that subterra¬ 
neous dungeon; I was by your side, at our house. Every 
morning at awakening, I invoked heaven’s blessing upon 
you. Then I would say to myself: ‘Good morning, father, 
good morning, mother.’ I would tell you all about my 
affliction and my sufferings; you encouraged me not to 
succumb in my cruel trial. Your wise and tender words 
comforted me. Then also my thoughts would wander to— 
"I have hesitated to tell you the truth. But you taught 
me to abhor untruth and dissimulation. I shall continue. 
Only, dear mother, I know not whether, when you receive 
this letter, you will still be a prisoner and separated from 
father. If, on the contrary, you are again together, per¬ 
haps you should not let him know the passage you are 
about to read. Perhaps, and it is my ardent hope, father 
is ignorant of the circumstance that he whom I called 
brother—did—in a fit of insanity— 


238 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“My hand trembles at the bare recollection of that inci¬ 
dent. 

“During that horrible evening, before your unexpected 
return home, before I could understand the meaning of 
Herve’s words, he had himself enlightened me concerning 
the nature of the feelings that I entertained for Brother 
St. Ernest-Martyr. I have no doubt of it, at this hour. 
It was love I entertained for him. In the depth of my 
prison, during my nights of affliction, I could not prevent 
myself from thinking of you, without my thoughts running 
to him. 

“That is the admission that a minute ago I hesitated to 
make. If that attachment is a guilty one, good mother, 
forgive me, it is involuntary. 

“My thoughts wandered in my prison, beloved parents, 
no less to Brother St. Ernest-Martyr than to yourselves, 
resolved, as I was, to die here or rejoin you. Suddenly a 
cruel thought, that had not before occurred to me, flashed 
through my mind. To live by your side would be to live 
under the same roof with Ilerve! I attributed—I still 
attribute the occurrences of that fatal night to a tempo¬ 
rary derangement of his reason. You, no doubt, withheld 
the incident from father’s knowledge. Herve, once again 
returned to sanity, must have cursed his temporary aberra¬ 
tion. His repentence must have moved you. One is in¬ 
dulgent towards crazy people! Nevertheless the mere 
thought of seeing him again caused me to shudder. The 
only hope that had hitherto sustained me, the hope of 
spending my life near you ? as of yore, drooped its wings. 



HENA’S DIARY . 


239 


It seemed to me impossible ever after to support the sight 
of Herve. As I was a prey to these new and painful 
thoughts, one morning the door of my cell was opened and 
the turning-box attendant entered, followed by the other 
nuns. 

“ ‘Are you now more docile ?’ she asked. ‘Do you now 
consent to receive the religious instruction necessary to 
take the vows of the Order of the Augustinians ?’ 

“ ‘No V I screamed. ‘You will gain nothing from me* 
either by persuasion, or force. I shall remain faithful to 
my belief V 

“At a sign from the nun two of the turning-box attend¬ 
ants fell upon me. Despite all my struggles, my tears, and 
my cries, they stripped me of my haircloth robe, the only 
clothing I had on; they held me fast; and their two other 
companions flagellated me mercilessly. Shame and pain— 
my shoulders and bosom ran blood under the lacerating 
lashing—wrung from me a cowardly entreaty. I prom¬ 
ised absolute submission. My obedience appeased my tor¬ 
turers. I was taken back to my nun’s cell. For a first 
proof of my submission I was to consent that very day to 
confess to one of the Augustinian monks under whose di¬ 
rection the convent stood, and one of whom was to be 
charged with imparting religious instruction to me. To¬ 
wards noon I was conducted to the chapel. Oh, mother, 
what a surprise was in store for me! At the very first 
words that the monk, who occupied the confessional, ad¬ 
dressed to me, I recognized the voice of St. Ernest-Martyr. 

I took myself for saved. I gave him my name; I in- 


240 


TEE POCKET BIBLE . 


formed him of.our arrest; I conjured him to hunt Up my 
father and my dear uncle Josephin, who surely must have 
remained at large, and notify them where you and I were 
held in confinement. Alas, my hopes were but short-lived! 
Brother St. Ernest-Martyr, himself an object of suspicion 
to the other monks and especially to the Abbot of the con¬ 
vent, was not allowed to go out. For several days he had 
been a prisoner in his own cell, which he left only to fulfil 
his ministry in the Augustinian Convent, which he reached 
through an underground passage that joined the two mon¬ 
asteries. I asked him whether it would be possible for 
him to have a letter reach my family. He doubted whether 
I would be allowed to write; furthermore, he did not, on 
his part, see any means by which my missive could reach 
its destination, such was the surveillance under which he 
himself was held. I narrated to him the recent ordeals 
and the trials that I underwent since my entrance in the 
convent. I heard him cry in the dark. I then entreated 
him to counsel me. He answered: 

“ ‘Sister, even if you experienced a decided religious vo¬ 
cation, and your parents gave their consent, even then I 
would urge you to reflect before pronouncing those eternal 
vows. But you have not that vocation, you are kept here 
against your will and without your parents’ knowledge. 
What is to be done under such trying circumstances ? To 
refuse to receive the veil, as you have hitherto done, is to 
expose yourself to fresh ill-treatment and severities, under 
which you would perish; to enter a religious Order, even if 
forced thereto, is to renounce forever all tender family 


HEttA’S DIARY. 


241 


j(m. Before deciding, sister, endeavor to gain time. I 
shall help you by urging upon our Abbess the necessity of 
delay in order to complete your religious education. Your 
father and uncle have undoubtedly set on foot inquiries 
concerning your whereabouts. Keep up the hope that their 
efforts will be successful. Your father will move Robert 
Estienne, and he the Princess Marguerite to obtain your 
liberation. Rely upon my ardent wish to be useful to you. 
It is my duty to console you, and to sustain you in your 
cruel plight. I shall not fall short in my duty/ 

“This, dear mother, was the advice of Brother St. Ern¬ 
est-Martyr. I followed it. In the meantime it remained 
impossible for him either to leave the convent, or write to 
you. He dared not trust such a secret to any of the other 
monks. They would in all likelihood have betrayed him 
to the Abbot. 

“Alas, dear mother, yet another misfortune was to be¬ 
fall me; Brother St. Ernest-Martyr ceased to be my re¬ 
ligious instructor. A few days after our first conference 
he was replaced by another Augustinian monk. 

“So many afflictions threw me upon a sick bed. I be¬ 
came seriously ill. By the grief that the absence of St. 
Ernest-Martyr caused me I realized how much I loved him. 
Of this love he is ignorant; he does not even suspect it; 
he shall never know it. My heart breaks at the mere 
thought of what remains for me to tell you. 

“The new Augustinian monk, who was charged to cate¬ 
chise me, inspired me with such instinctive repulsion that 
I could not conceal its manifestations. He complained to 


242 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


the Mother Superior of my ill will towards him. r ihe 
Abbess summoned me before her, and notified me that, 
whether instructed or not, I was to take the vow the day 
after the next, adding that I would then be allowed to see 
my family. 

“I entreated the Superior to grant me one more day to 
reflect upon so grave a step. My entreaty was granted. 
1 then reasoned as follows: To refuse to become a nun is 
to expose myself to renewed acts of violence and flagella¬ 
tions the very recollection of which render me purple with 
shame; it is also to renounce the only hope of seeing from 
time to time my beloved parents. On the other hand I 
feel that my love for Brother St. Ernest-Martyr will end 
but with my life; seeing I can not be his, to renounce him 
i,s to renounce the world, and all family joys. Why, then, 
not take the veil ? 

“1 was alone, without an adviser, weakened with suf¬ 
fering, beset by nuns who alternately resorted to persua¬ 
sion and threats. I despaired of ever finding the means 
of informing you of my fate, good mother. I resigned 
myself to take the vow— 

“This morning the ceremony was celebrated. I was 
christened in religion with a sad name. I am called St. 
Erances-in-the-Tomb. To-night I am to spend in prayers 
in the chapel of the Virgin, according to the custom for 
maids who have taken the veil. 

“My vows being pronounced, the Abbess caused me to 
be supplied with writing material—paper, pen and ink— 


HENA'S DIARY. 


243 


promising me that this letter would be forwarded to my 
family. 

“I am wrong for having taken so grave a step without 
your consent, good mother, and without the consent of 
father. 

“I break off at this place. The convent clock strikes 
nine. I am to be taken to the chapel, where I am to watch 
all night. May God have mercy upon me. 

“To-morrow, good mother, I shall finish this letter 
which I shall carry concealed in my corsage. I shall tell 
you then what were my thoughts. 

“Until to-morrow, mother. I shall then close my confi¬ 
dences.” 

The sequel of this chronicle will instruct you, sons of 
Joel, concerning the events that led to Christian’s coming 
into possession of the letter of the ill-starred Hena, as also 
of the following fragments of the diary written by Ernest 
Kennepont, in religion St. Ernest-Martyr, during the time 
that he also was held a prisoner under surveillance in the 
Augustinian Convent. 


CHAPTER XY. 


DIARY OE ST. ERNEST-MARTYR. 

“Lord God! Have mercy upon me! I have just seen 
the young girl. I have confessed her in the convent of our 
Augustinian sisters. She is imprisoned there. They wish 
to compel her to take the vows. Poor victim! 

“When I recognized her voice; when, in the shadow of 

the confessional, I perceived her angelic face, my heart 

thrilled with an insensate joy. I then trembled, and wept. 

Oh, Thou who seest to the bottom of the heart of man, 

Thou knowest, my God! my first thought was to leave the 

tribunal of penitence. I did not deem myself worthy of 

sitting in that place. But in her distress, the child had 

only me for her support. She thanked Thee, oh, my God! 

with such fervor for having sent me across her path, that 

my first impulse weakened, and I remained.” 

* * * 

“To Thee, my divine Master, I make my confession. 
Yes; the first time I saw that young girl at the house of 
Mary La Catelle, as I was engaged in teaching the chil¬ 
dren at her school, I was struck by the beauty of Hena 
Lebrenn, her modesty, her candor, her grace! Without 


DIARY OF ST. ERNE ST-MARTYR. £45 

knowing it, Mary La Catelle rendered still more profound 
the deep impression her friend had made upon me, by re¬ 
counting to me her virtues, her goodness, the truthfulness 
of her character. Yes; I confess it; since that day, and 
despite my reason that said to me: ‘Such a love is insane 
despite my faith that whispered to me: ‘Such a love is 
guilty;’ despite all, the mad passion, the criminal passion 
gained every day a more powerful sway over my being. 
Our meeting to-day, by unveiling to me without reserve 
that ingenuous and charming soul, has forever riveted my 
chains. I love her passionately. I shall carry that love 
with me to the grave —” 

* sis * 

“Impossible to leave my convent! I am the object of 
constant surveillance. Suspicion and hatred mount guard 
around me. How is Hena’s family to be apprized of the 
constraint she is placed under? The days are passing 
away. I shudder at the thought of the Mother Superior 
compelling her to pronounce the vows, regardless of the 
observations I made to her that Hena’s religious instruc¬ 
tion is not yet sufficiently advanced. Were I sufficient of 
a wretch to listen to the voice of an execrable selfishness, 
I would rejoice at the thought that Hena, not being grant¬ 
ed to me, would be none else’s after her ordination as a 
nun. Ho! Were it in my power, I would restore the un¬ 
fortunate girl to her family. I would open the gates of 
the convent—” 

* * * 

“A family!—a wife!—children!—the tenderest of sen- 



246 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


timents, the dearest, the most sacred that can elevate the 
soul to the height of Thy providential purposes, 0, heaven¬ 
ly Father!—a family—that ineffable sanctuary of domes¬ 
tic virtues—is forever barred to me! A curse upon those 
who founded the first convents! 

“And who is it that bars me from that sanctuary? Is 
it Thy will, 0, God of justice—Thou who gavest a com¬ 
panion to man? No! No! Neither the Word revealed by 
the prophets, nor the Word of Thy Son, our Eedeemer, 
ever said to Thy priests: ‘You shall remain without the 
pale of mankind; you are above, or below, the duties im¬ 
posed by the sacred mission of assuring the happiness of 
a wife, raising children in the love and practice of right, 
and giving them the bread of the soul and the bread of 
the body P 

“The reformers, those heretics, they have remained 
faithful to Thy divine precepts. Their pastors are hus¬ 
bands and fathers.” 

* * * 

“At this moment the noise and the songs of orgy pene¬ 
trate to the very recesses of my cell. Mysteries of corrup¬ 
tion and debauchery! The poor, ignorant people believe 
in the celibacy of the monks and the chastity of the nuns! 
Monks and nuns give themselves over to all manner of 
abominations!” 

* * * 

“Before ever I met Hena at the home of Marv La Ca- 

sJ 

telle, Thou knowest, Oh, my God! I was seized with the 
justice of the reforms that were proclaimed in Thy name 


DIARY OF ST. ERNE ST-MARTYR. 247 

by the Lutherans. I was in communion with them, if not 
in the communion of lips, at least in that of the soul. The 
adoration of images and saints, the arrogance of the 
clergy, auricular confession which places infamous priests 
in possession of the secrets of the domestic hearth, the re¬ 
demption of sins and souls for a money price, the traffic 
in indulgences—so many iniquities, so many outrages 
against morality, rendered me indignant. My soul opened 
to the light.” 

* * * 

“I have had a strange dream! 

“Having become a pastor of the reformed religion, I 
had married Hena. We lived in a village, located in a 
smiling valley. I gave lessons to the lads. Hena gathered 
the girls around her. God blessed our union. Two beau¬ 
tiful children drew closer the bonds of our mutual tender¬ 
ness. Oh, sacred family joys! Hena, my beloved wife!” 

* * * 

“Fool that I am! Instead of allowing my thoughts to 
dwell upon that dream, could I but tear it out of my mem¬ 
ory. Until now I had, at least, found some bitter comfort 
in the word— Impossible. I am a monk. An insurmount¬ 
able obstacle separates me from Hena. My grief fed upon 
the most mournful of thoughts. Astray in a labyrinth 
from which there was no exit, no ray of hope penetrated 
to the depth of my despair. 

“But now, after that tempting dream, I find myself 
saying: 

“ ‘And yet I could be happy. I could embrace the Evan- 


248 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


gelical religion, become one of its pastors, remain guilt¬ 
less of faithlessness to my vow of devoting myself to the 
service of God, and yet wed Hena. The reform ministers 

are not held to celibacy. 5 55 

* * * 

“Mercy, Oh, my God! However intense the hope, it has 
evaporated. I have fallen back into the very depth of de¬ 
spair. In order to wed Hena, she must love me! Can her 
heart ever have beaten for a man clad in a monk’s frock ?” 

* * * 

“Who made me a monk? Could I, at the age of thir¬ 
teen, be endowed with judgment enough to decide upon my 
vocation, and understand the significance of monastic 
vows? Was it not in mere obedience to my father that 
I entered as a novice the Order of the Augustinian monks ? 
That was my first step in religious life. Subsequent^, 
partly through lassitude, partly through habit, partly 
through submission, I proceeded to consecrate myself to 
this gloomy and sterile life. I bowed before the paternal 
will. Thus goes the world! To my elder brother freedom 
to choose his career and a. wife; to him the hereditary 
patrimony; to him family joys; to me the cloister; to me 
the vows that shackle me to celibacy and poverty! Such 
are the iniquities of the Catholics. 55 

* * * 

“A slow fever undermines and consumes me. I am only 
the shadow of my former Self. 

“The religious education that every day I impart to 


DIARY OF ST. ERNE ST-MARTYR. 249 

Hena in the shadow of the confessional is torture to me. 
I have become so nervously sensitive that the sweet sound 
of my penitent’s voice makes every fiber of my brain to 
twitch. Her breath, that occasionally reaches my face 
through the grating of the confessional, makes my fore* 
head to be bathed in perspiration that burns, and then 
freezes my temples. I have not the courage to endure this 
torture any longer. I shall go crazy. To see, to feel near 
me the young girl the thought of whom fills my soul, and 
to be forever on guard, in order to restrain myself, to watch 
every single word I utter, its inflection, my hardly re¬ 
pressed sighs, the tears that her sorrows and my own draw 
from my eyes in order to conceal my secret from her! I 
am at the end of my strength. Fever and sleeplessness 
have used up my life. I can hardly drag myself from my 
cell to the church of the Augustinian monks. Call me to 
Your bosom, 0 Lord God! Have pity upon me. Mercy! 
Shorten my torments!” 

* * * 

“There is no longer any doubt. Hena will be forced to 
take the vows. Yesterday I went to the convent of the 
Augustinian sisters to inform the Mother Superior that 
my weakened health commanded me absolute rest, and I 
could not continue the religious education of the young 
novice. 

“ Ts Hena Lebrenn at last in a condition to take the 
veil?’ she asked me. 

“‘Not vet,’ I answered. 

y ' 


250 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“ ‘In that case/ replied the Mother Superior, ‘the Lord 
will enlighten her with His grace when it shall please Him. 
It is His concern. Obedient to the orders I have from my 
ecclesiastical superiors, the girl must take the veil within 
a week. Some other of our Augustinian brothers will tako 
charge of completing the education of the novice, somehow 
or other. It is the reverend Father Lefevre who sent her 
here. She has a brother who also was snatched from perdi¬ 
tion. The task was easy with him. So far from refusing 
to take the vows, he requested to be allowed to enter the 
Order of the Cordeliers, and has been taken to their con¬ 
vent and placed near Fra Girard. The father and mother 
are devil-possessed heretics. A curse upon them.’ 

“And thus, in violation of all law and equity the two 
children have been wrested from their family, and will 
evermore be separated from it. I would give my life to 
inform Christian Lebrenn and his wife of the fate that is 
reserved for his daughter. Alas, there is no means of see¬ 
ing them.” 

* * * 

“To-morrow Hena takes the vows at the convent of the 
Augustinian sisters. I was informed of it by the monk 
who replaced me as her catechiser. My God! The poor 
girl is lost forever to her family. 

“And yet a glimmer of hope remains. The surveillance 
at first exercised over me becomes less rigorous, now that 
my life is ebbing away, and I hardly leave my couch. If 
this evening, to-night, I can leave the convent, I shall 


DtAft? OF ST. ERNEST-UARTYk. 


25 i 

Notify Monsieur Lebrenn of the imminent danger that 
threatens his daughter. Perchance, thanks to the influence 
of Robert Estienne, the Princess Marguerite may yet be 
able to obtain the freedom of Hena before she has taken 
the veil. 

“My God! Vouchsafe my prayer and deliver me speed¬ 
ily of life. I shall ask to be buried in my frock, where I 
keep hidden these leaves, the only confidants of my love/* 

'i 







CHAPTER XVI. 


THE TAVERN OE THE BLACK GRAPE. 

“The Black Grape” was the device roughly painted on 
the escutcheon of a tavern that served for rendezvous to 
all sorts of bandits, who at that season infested the city of 
Paris. Even the archers of the patrol held in awe the 
semi-underground cut-throats’ resort. They never ven¬ 
tured into the tortuous and dark alley at about the middle 
of which the old sign of the Black Grape, well known by 
all the thieves, creaked and swung to the wind. Three men, 
seated at a table in one of the nooks of that haunt, were 
discussing some important project, judging from the mys¬ 
tery in which they wrapped their conversation. Pichro- 
cbolle, the Mauvais-Gargon, and his pal Grippe-Minaud, the 
Tire-Laine, who, several months before, had attended the 
sale of indulgences in St. Dominic’s Church, were two of 
the interlocutors in the consultation they were for some 
time holding with Josephin, the Franc-Taupin. Strange 
transformation! The adventurer, once a man of imper¬ 
turbable good nature, was unrecognizable. His now som¬ 
ber and even savage physiognomy revealed a rooted grief. 
He left his pot of wine untouched. What stronger evi¬ 
dence of his grief! 


THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK CRAPE. 253 

a St. Cadouin!” said Pichrocholle with a tone and ges¬ 
ture of devout invocation. “We are here alone. You can 
now tell us what you want of us, Josephin.” 

“Pichrocholle, I met you in the war—” 

“Yes, I was an arquebusier in the company of Monsieur 
Monluc. I got tired of killing in battle, and without 
profit to myself, Italians, Spaniards, Swiss and Flemings, 
whom I did not know, and decided to kill for cash French¬ 
men whom I did know. I became a Mauvais-Gargon. I 
now place my dagger and my sword at the service of who¬ 
ever pays me. Tit for tat.” 

“ *Tis but to be a soldier, only in another manner,” ex¬ 
plained Grippe-Minaud. “But this trade requires a cer¬ 
tain courage that I do not possess. I prefer to tackle hon¬ 
est bourgeois on their way home at night without any other 
weapon than—their lanthorns.” 

“Pichrocholle,” proceeded the Franc-Taupin, “I saved 
your life at the battle of Marignan. I extricated you from 
two lansquenets, who, but for my help, would have put you 
through a disagreeable quarter of an hour. I believe I bore 
myself as a true comrade.” 

“St. Cadouin! Do you take me for an ingrate ? If you 
have any service to ask of me, speak freely without fear of 
a refusal.” 

“When I ran across you a few minutes ago, it occurred 
to me you were the man I needed—” 

“Is it some enemy you wish to rid yourself of ? All you 
have to do is to place me before him.” 

Josephin shook his head negatively, and pointed with his 


254 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


finger at his own long sword, that lay across the table be¬ 
fore him. It would have been quite enough for such a 
contingency. 

“You are yourself able to rid yourself of an enemy/’ 
replied the Mauvais-Gargon. “I know it. What, then, is 
the job?” 

The Franc-Taupin proceeded with a tremulous voice 
while a tear rolled down from his eye: 

“Pichrocholle, I had a sister—” 

“How your voice trembles! You could not look any 
sadder. Pichrocholle, the pots are empty, and no money 
to fill them with!” said Grippe-Minaud. 

“ ’Sdeath, my sister!” cried the Franc-Taupin in de¬ 
spair. “There is a void in my heart that nothing can 
fill!” and he hid his face in his hands. 

“A void is useful when it is made in the purse of a 
bourgeois,” commented Grippe-Minaud, while his com¬ 
panion remarked: 

“Come, now, Josephin, you had a sister. Is it that you 
have lost her? Proceed with your story.” 

“She is dead!” murmured the Franc-Taupin, gulping 
down a sob; but recovering, he added: “I still have a 
niece—” 

“A niece?” asked the Mauvais-Gargon. “Is it she we 
must help? Is she young and handsome—?” 

The bandit stopped short at the fierce look that the 
Franc-Taupin shot at him. Presently he resumed: 

“I knew you one time for a jollier fellow.” 

“I laugh no more,” rejoined the Franc-Taupin with a 


255 


TEE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE. 

sinister smile. “My cheerfulness is gone! But let us 
come to the point. My sister died in prison. I succeeded 
at least in being allowed to see her before she closed her 
eyes, and to receive her last wishes. She leaves behind 
three children—a girl and two boys, but the elder does 
not count.” 

“How’s that? Explain the mystery.” 

“I am coming to that. My sister’s daughter was seized 
and taken to the convent of the Augustinian sisters, where 
she is now detained.” 

“St. Cadouin! What is there to complain about ? To 
have a niece in a convent, is almost like having an angel 
on your side in paradise!” Saying which the Mauvais- 
Gargon crossed himself devoutly by carrying his thumb 
from his nose to his chin, and then across from one corner 
to the other of his mouth. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Grippe-Minaud, “And I have neither 
sister, daughter nor niece in a convent! They would pray 
for the remission of my sins. I could then be uncon¬ 
cerned for the hereafter, like a fish in the water!” 

“And their prayers would not cost you a denier!” added 
Pichrocholle with a sigh. 

“Oh, if only my daughter Mariotte had not run away at 
the age of fourteen with a jail-bird, she would now be in 
a convent, praying for her good father, the Tire-Laine! 
By the confession! That was the dream of my life,” 
whereupon the thief crossed himself as the Mauvais-Gar- 
gon had done. 

The words of the two bandits suited the Franc-Taupin. 


256 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


They were fresh proofs of the mixture of superstition and 
crime that marked the bandits’ lives. Their fanaticism 
squared with his own projects. He proceeded with his 
story, to which his two comrades listened attentively: 

“My niece has no religious vocation. She was taken to 
the convent, and is held there by force. She must come 
out. Will you help me to carry her off?” 

“St. Cadouin!” cried the Mauvais-Gargon, terror strick¬ 
en, and crossing himself anew. “That would be sacri¬ 
lege !” 

“To violate a holy place!” came from Grippe-Minaud, 
who grew pale and crossed himself like Pichrocholle. “By 
the confession ! My hair stands on end at the bare thought 
of such a thing!” 

Dumb and stupefied, the two brigands looked at each 
other with dilated eyes. The Franc-Taupin seemed in no 
wise disconcerted by their scruples. After a moment of 
silence he proceeded: 

“Mauvais-Gargons and Tire-Laines are good Catholics, 
I know. Therefore, be easy, my devout friends, I have 
the power to absolve you.” 

“Are you going to make us believe you are an Apostolic 
Commissioner ?” 

“What does it matter, provided I guarantee to you a 
plenary indulgence ? Eh, comrades !” 

“You—you—Josephin? You are mocking us! And 
yet you claim you have lost your taste for mirth!” 

Separated from the two thieves by the full length of the 
table, the Franc-Taupin placed his sword between his legs, 


TEE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE. 257 

planted his bare dagger close before him, and then drew 
a parchment out of the pocket of bis spacious hose. It 
was Herve's letter of absolution, which the Franc-Taupin 
had picked up from the threshold of his sister's house 
when the Lebrenn family was arrested. He unfolded the 
apostolic schedule; and holding it open in plain view of 
both the brigands, he said to them: 

“Look and read—you can read." 

“A letter of absolution!" exclaimed the Mauvais-Gar- 
gon and the Tire-Laine, with eyes that glistened with greed 
as they carefully ran over the parchment. “It bears the 
seals, the signatures—there is nothing lacking!" 

“I saw day before yesterday a schedule like that in the 
hands of the Count of St. Mexin, who paid me two ducats 
to dispatch a certain fat advocate, a husband who stands 
in the way of the love affairs of the advocatess with the 
young seigneur," said the Mauvais-Gargon. 

“By the confession!" cried Grippe-Minaud, re-crossing 
himself. “The letter is complete! It gives remission even 
for reserved cases. Thanks to this absolution, one can do 
anything! Anything, without danger to his soul!" 

After reading and contemplating with ecstasies the apos¬ 
tolic schedule, the two bandits exchanged a rapid and 
meaning look, which, however, did not escape the Franc- 
Taupin, thoroughly on his guard as he was. He drew 
back quickly, rose from his seat, dashed the precious parch¬ 
ment back into his pocket, took a few steps away from the 
table, and standing erect, his right foot forward, his sword 


256' 


THE POCKET BIBLE, 


in one hand, his dagger in the other, thus addressed the 
two desperadoes: 

“By the bow’els of St. Quenet, my lads! I knew you 
for too good a brace of Catholics not to wish to stab me 
to death in order to get possession of this absolving sched- 
ule, which remits all past, present and future crimes* 
Come on, my dare-devils, I have only one eye left, but it 
is a good one!” 

“You are crazy! It is not right to mistrust an old 
friend that way,” expostulated Pichroeholle. “You mis¬ 
understood our intentions.” 

“We only wanted to examine more closely that blessed 
and priceless letter,” added the Tire-Laine. “By the con¬ 
fession ! Happy man that you are to possess such a treas¬ 
ure !” and he crossed himself. “Saints of paradise, but 
grant me such a windfall, and I shall burn twenty wax 
candles come Candlemas!” 

“It depends upon you whether you shall own this treas¬ 
ure or not,” proceeded the adventurer. “I shall give you 
this letter of absolution, if you help me, to-night, to carry 
off my niece from the convent of the Augustinian sisters. 
By virtue of this apostolic schedule, you will be absolved 
of all your sins—past, present and future, and of this 
night's sacrilege for good measure. Thenceforth, you will 
be privileged fairly to swim in crime, without concern for 
your souls, as Pichroeholle just said. Paradise will then 
be guaranteed to you!” 

“But,” remarked the Mauvais-Gargon, shaking his head, 
“this letter absolves only one Christian—we are two.” 


THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE. 259 

“Tko job being done, you will cast dice for the sched¬ 
ule/’ Josephin answered readily. “There will be one to 
lose and one to gain. The chances are equal for you both.” 

The two bandits consulted each other with their eyes. 
Pichrocholle spoke up: 

“But how do you come into possession of that letter? 
Those absolutions are the most expensive. St. Cadouin! 
The least that they cost, I hear, is twenty-five gold crowns.” 

“It is none of your business from whom I hold the 
schedule. ’Sdeath, my sister! All the gold in the world 
will not pay for the tears that piece of parchment has 
caused to flow!” answered the Franc-Taupin, whose visage 
expressed a profound grief as he thought of the revelations 
Bridget made to him about Herve. 

Becovering his composure the adventurer added: 

“Will you, yes or no, both of you, lend me a strong hand 
to-night, in order to carry off my niece from the convent 
of the Augustinian sisters, and for another expedition? 
It is a double game we have to play.” 

“St. Cadouin! We are to make two strokes. You never 
told us about that—” 

“The second expedition is but child’s play. To seize a 
little casket.” 

“What does the casket contain?” queried the Tire- 
Laine, all interest. 

“Only papers,” answered the Franc-Taupin, “besides a 
few trinkets of no value. Moreover, seeing you are scrup¬ 
ulous Catholics, I shall add, for the sake of the peace of 
vour souls, that the casket which I wish to recover, was 

1/ ' 


260 THE POCKET BIBLE. 

stolen from my brother-in-law. Yon will be aiding a res¬ 
titution.” 

“Josephin, you are trying to deceive us!” remarked the 
Mauvais-Gargon. “People do not attach so much import¬ 
ance to a bunch of papers and worthless trinkets.” 

“When the casket is in our possession you may open it— 
if there be any valuables in it, they shall be yours.” 

“There is nothing to say to that,” rejoined Pichrocholle, 
looking at the Tire-Laine. “That’s fair, eh? We shall 
accept the proposition.” 

“Quite fair,” returned the latter. “But let us proceed 
in order. The abduction of the nun—by the navel of the 
Pope! I shiver at the bare thought. Should the cast of 
the dice not give me the letter of absolution, I remain 
guilty of a sacrilege!” 

“That is your risk,” answered the Franc-Taupin; “but if 
you gain the indulgence—there you are, my Catholic 
brother, safe for all eternity, whatever crimes you may 
commit.” 

“By the limbs of Satan! I know that well enough! It 
is that very thing that lures me.” 

“And me too,” put in the other brigand. “But how are 
we to manage things in order to enter the convent ?” 

“I shall explain my plan to you. My brother-in-law is 
in hiding for fear of being arrested. My niece, who was 
taken to the Augustinian Convent, was compelled to take 
the vows to-day.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I had gone, as latterly I often get into the humor of 


THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE . 261 

doing, and planted myself before my sister’s house—and 
dreamed.” 

“To what end ?” 

“In order to contemplate that poor house, deserted to¬ 
day, and where, every time I returned from the country, 
Bridget, her husband and her children gave me a pleasant 
reception. You devout fellows talk of paradise. That 
house was a paradise to me. So that, even to-day, I roam¬ 
ed into the neighborhood as an erring soul, my eyes fas¬ 
tened upon that closed window where I had so often seen 
the dear faces of my sister and her daughter smiling upon 
me when I knocked at their door—” 

The expression on the face, the tone of the voice of the 
Franc-Taupin, touched even the two bandits, hardened 
men though they were. Josephin smothered a sob and 
proceeded: 

“As I was saying a short while ago, I was roaming 
around the house when I saw a monk approaching me. 
Oh, a good monk! So j)ale, so worn that I had trouble to 
recognize him. But he, although he had met me only once, 
recognized me by my port and by the plaster on my eye. 
He asked me whether he could have a speedy word with 
my sister, or my brother-in-law. ‘My sister is dead, and 
my brother-in-law is in hiding/ I answered the monk. He 
thereupon informed me that my niece was locked up in the 
convent of the Augustinian sisters, where he, an Augus- 
tinian monk, was her confessor; that, himself subjected 
several months to a rigorous sequestration, he had only 
just succeeded in coming out, seeing that the surveillance 


202 


THE POCKET BIBLE „ 




under which he was held had somewhat begun to relax. 
Poor monk, he looked so wan, so emaciated, so feeble that 
he could hardly keep himself on his feet. Uninformed con¬ 
cerning the misfortunes of our family, his errand was to 
impart to the parents of my niece what he knew about her. 
He ran the risk, in the event of his outing being discov¬ 
ered, of being pursued and punished. I took him to the 
place w r here my brother-in-law has found a safe retreat. 
On the way thither I learned the following from the monk: 
My niece took the veil to-day. According to the custom 
in such cases, she is to pass the night alone in prayer in 
the oratory of the Virgin, which is separated from the 
church of the convent by an enclosure of the cloister. 
Now, attention, my lads, to the directions that the monk 
gave me. The walls of the court-yard of the chapel run 
along St. Benoit’s Alley. Just before sunset, I went over 
the place and examined the walls. They are not very high. 
We can easily scale them, while one of us will keep watch 
on the outside.” 

“That shall be I!” broke in Grippe-Minaud nervously. 
“That post for me! I have the eye of a lynx and the ear 
of a mole!” 

“You shall be the watcher. Piehrocholle and I shall 
scale the wall. The monk will be waiting for me near the 
chapel, ready to aid us should anyone attempt to oppose 
my niece’s abduction. I shall find her in the oratory; she 
will follow me; we shall force open one of the garden 
gates; and before dawn I shall have the daughter with her 
father, who is in perfect safety. Immediately after, it 


THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK CRAPE. 263 

will then be just early dawn, we shall undertake the sec¬ 
ond expedition.” 

“The casket that we are to take ?” 

“Nothing easier. We shall go, all three, to Montaigu 
College, and shall ask the porter for the number of Abbot 
Lefevre’s chamber. He is the thief of the casket.” 

“Horns of Mioses!” cried Grippe-Minaud crossing him¬ 
self. “An Abbot! To raise our hands against another 
anointed of the Lord!” 

“Two sacrileges in one day!” added the Mauvais-Gar- 
gon shaking his head thoughtfully. “That weighs heavy 
on one's conscience.” 

“What about the letter of absolution!” interjected the 
Franc-Taupin impatiently. “By the devil, whose frying 
pan you are afraid of, my precious Catholics! Have you 
faith—yes or no?” 

“That’s so,” responded Pichrocholle, “there is the sched¬ 
ule of absolution. It covers us! Thanks to its beneficent 
virtue, one of us shall be white as the inside of a snow¬ 
ball.” 

“Accordingly,” the Franc-Taupin proceeded, “we shall 
ask for Abbot Lefevre, under the pretext of some urgent 
matter that we must communicate to him; we go up to his 
room; we knock at the door. Our man will still be in bed. 
We throw ourselves upon him. You two bind and gag him. 
I shall look for the casket in question—and shall find it. 
I am certain of that. We then tie our Abbot to the bed, 
keeping Mm gagged all the while, lest he scream and give 


264 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


the alarm. We close the door after us—and we make 
tracks for the nearest place of safety.” 

“Oh, that would be the merest child’s play, provided no 
priest were concerned,” broke in the Tire-Laine; “besides 
the abduction of your niece, the violation of a sanctuary!” 

“Yesterday I despatched my seventh man,” put in the 
Mauvais-Gargon. “Accordingly, my conscience is not very 
well at ease, because, to obtain absolution for a murder, I 
would have to pay more than the murder fetches me. But 
a lay murder is but a peccadillo beside a sacrilege!—And 
then, if after the expedition that you propose to us, the 
dice should fail to give me the apostolic schedule? What 
then! St. Cadouin! I would dream only of the eternal 
flames ever after.” 

“That is your risk,” again replied Josephin imperturb¬ 
ably. “The hour approaches. Have you decided? Is it 
yes ? Is it no ? Must I look for assistance elsewhere ?” 

“When will you deliver the letter to us?” 

“Just as soon as my niece is safely with her father, and 
the casket is in my hands. Agreed ?” 

“And if you deceive us? If after the expeditions have 
been successfully carried out, you refuse to deliver the 
letter to us?” 

“By the bowels of St. Quenet! And if, taking advan¬ 
tage of a moment when I may not be on my guard, you 
should stab me to-night, that you may seize the letter be¬ 
fore rendering me the services which I expect of you ? The 
risks are equal, and compensate each other. Enough of 
words!” 


THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE. 265 

“Oh, Josephin, such a suspicion against me—me your 
old comrade in arms !” 

“By the confession! To take us—us who have drunk 
out of the same pot, for capable of so unworthy an action !” 

“God’s blood! Night draws near. We shall need some 
time to prepare for the escalade/’ ejaculated the Franc- 
Taupin. “For the last time—yes or no?” 

The two bandits consulted each other for a moment 
with their eyes. At the end of the consultation Pichro- 
cholle reached out his hand to the Franc-Taupin, saying: 

“Upon the word of a Mauvais-Gargon, and by the salva¬ 
tion of my soul—’tis done! You can count with me to 
the death.” 

“Upon the word of a Tire-Laine, and by the salvation 
of my soul—’tis done. You may dispose of me.” 

“To work!” ordered the Franc-Taupin. 

Josephin left the tavern of the Black Grape accompanied 
by the two bandits. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE. 

The cottage or country-house, that Robert Estienne 
owned near St. Ouen, on the St. Denis road, was located 
in a secluded spot, and at a considerable distance from 
the village. The byroad which led to the entrance of the 
residence ran upon a gate of grated iron near a little lodge 
occupied by the gardener and his wife. The principal 
dwelling rose in the center of a garden enclosed by a wall. 
The day after that on which the Franc-Taupin, the Mau- 
vais-Gargon and the Tire-Laine held their conference at 
the tavern of the Black Grape, Michael, Robert Estienne’j 
gardener, having returned from the field late in the after¬ 
noon, and being not a little out of sorts at not finding his 
wife Alison at their home, the key of which she had car¬ 
ried away with her, was grumbling, storming and blowing 
upon his fingers numb with the December chill. Finally 
his wife, no doubt returning from the village, hove in 
sight, and wended her way towards the gate. 

“Where the devil did you go to?” Michael called out 
to Alison as he saw her from a distance. “Could you not 
at least have left the key in the door ? The devil take those 
forgetful women!” 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE. 267 

“I went—to confession/* answered the gardener’s wife 
avoiding her husband’s eyes, and pushing open the gate. 
‘‘I took the key with me because vou were afield.” 

‘‘To confession!—To confession !” replied Michael with 
a growl. “And I was freezing to death.” 

“All the same I must see to my salvation. You sent me 
this morning with a letter to our master. The curate was 
good enough to wait for me at the confessional after din¬ 
ner. I availed myself of his kindness.” 

“Very well. But, may the devil take it! I wish you 
would try to gain paradise without exposing me to be 
frozen to death.” 

The couple had barely stepped into the lodge when 
Michael stopped to listen in the direction of the gate and 
said, surprisedly: 

“I hear the gallop of a horse!” 

The brave Michael stepped out again, looked through 
the grating of the gate, recognized Robert Estienne, and 
called out: 

“Alison, come quick; it is our master!” 

Saying this the gardener threw open the gate to Robert 
Estienne. The latter alighted from his horse, and giving 
the reins to his servant said: 

“Good evening, Michael. Any news?” 

“Oh, monsieur, many things—” 

“Does my guest run any danger? Has any indiscretion 
been committed?” 

“No, thanks to God, monsieur. You may be easy on 
that score. You can rely upon my wife as upon myself. 


268 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


No one suspects at the village that there is anyone hiding 
at the house.” 

“What, then, has happened, since my last call? Alison 
brought me this morning a note from the friend to whom 
I am giving asylum. But although the note urged my 
coming here, it indicated nothing serious.” 

“No doubt the person who is here, monsieur, reserves 
for his own telling the news that he is no longer alone at 
the house.” 

“How is that?” 

“Day before yesterday, the tall one-eyed fellow r who 
comes here from time to time, and always at night, called 
in broad daylight, mounted upon a little cart, drawn by a 
donkey and filled with straw. He told me to watch the 
cart, and he went in search of your guest. The two came 
out together, and out of the straw in the cart they pulled 
—a monk!” 

“A monk, say you!—A monk!” 

“Yes, monsieur, a young monk of the Order of Saint 
Augustine, who looked as if he had not another hour to 
live, so pale and weak was he.” 

“And what has become of him?” 

“He remained here, and your guest -said to me: ‘Michael, 
I beg you to keep the arrival of the monk an absolute se¬ 
cret. I shall inform Monsieur Estienne of the occurrence. 
Your master will approve the measures I have taken/ ” 

“Did you follow his recommendation?” 

“Yes, monsieur, but that is not all. Last night the big 

cne-eyed fellow came back just before dawn. He was on 

> 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE . 269 

horseback, and behind him, wrapped in a cloak on the 
crupper of his mount, he brought—a nun! I went imme¬ 
diately to notify your guest. He came out running, and 
almost fainted away at the sight of the nun. Bathed in 
tears he returned with her into the house, while the big 
one-eyed man rode off at a gallop. It was daylight by that 
time. Finally, towards noon to-day, the big one-eyed man 
returned once more, but this time clad in a peasant’s 
blouse and cap. He brought a little casket to your guest, 
and then went off—” 

Astounded at what the gardener was telling him, Robert 
Estienne walked up to the house, where he rapped in the 
nature of a signal—two short raps and then, after a short 
pause, a third. Instantly Christian opened the door. 

“My friend, what is the matter ? What has happened ?” 
cried Robert Estienne, struck by the profound change in 
the appearance of the artisan, who threw himself into the 
arms of his patron, murmuring between half-smothered 
sobs: 

“My daughter!—My daughter!” 

Robert Estienne returned Christian’s convulsive em¬ 
brace, and under the impression that some irreparable mis¬ 
fortune had happened, he said in sympathetic accents: 

“Courage, my friend ! Courage!” 

“She has been found!” cried Christian. The light of 
unspeakable joy shone in his eyes. “My child has been 
restored to me! She is here ! She is with me!” 

“True?” asked Robert Estienne, and recalling the gar¬ 
dener’s words he added: “Was she the nun?” 


270 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


"It is Hena herself! But come, come, monsieur; my 
heart overflows with joy. My head swims. Oh, never have 
I needed your wise counsel as much as now! What am I 
now to do?” 

Christian and his patron had all this while remained at 
the entrance of the vestibule. They walked into a con¬ 
tiguous apartment. 

"For heaven’s sake, my dear Christian, be calm,” re¬ 
marked Robert Estienne. "Let me know what has hap¬ 
pened. Needless to add that my advice and friendship are 
at your service.” 

Recovering his composure, and wiping with the back 
of his hand the tears that inundated his face, the artisan 
proceeded to explain: 

"You are aware of the arrest of my wife, my daughter 
and my eldest son at our house. I would also have been 
arrested had I been found at home. My brother-in-law, 
who lingered in the neighborhood of my house, notified 
me of the danger I ran, and made me retrace my steps. 
Thanks to Josephin and yourself I found a safe refuge, 
first in Paris itself, and then here, in this retreat which 
seemed to you to offer greater security.” 

"Did I not by all that but repay a debt of gratitude? 
Your hospitality to John Calvin is probably the principal 
cause of the persecution that you and your family have 
been the victims of. Despite my pressing solicitations, 
Princess Marguerite, whose influence alone has hitherto 
protected me against my enemies, declined to attempt 
aught in your behalf. Cardinal Duprat said to her: 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE. 271 

‘Madam, the man in whom you are interesting yourself is 
one of the bitterest enemies of the King and the Church. 
If we succeed in laying hands upon that Christian Le- 
brenn he shall not escape the gallows, w r hich he has long 
deserved!’ Such set animosity towards you, a working¬ 
man and obscure artisan, passes my comprehension.” 

“I now know the cause of that bitter animosity, Mon¬ 
sieur Estienne. Before proceeding with my narrative, the 
revelation is due to you. It may have its bearings upon 
the advice that I expect from you.” 

Christian opened the casket that contained the chron¬ 
icles of his family, brought to him that very noon by the 
Eranc-Taupin. Ho took from the casket a scroll of paper 
and placed it in Robert Estienne’s hand, saying: 

“Kindly read this, monsieur. The manuscripts to which 
this note refers are the family chronicles that I have occa¬ 
sionally spoken of to you.” 

Robert Estienne took the note and read: 

“Ignatius Loyola, Genebal of the Society or Jmus 

“A. M. D. G. 

“(Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam) 

“Despite the incorrectness of their style and other defects of 
form, the within manuscripts may, especially since the invention 
of the printing press, become a weapon of great mischief. 

“This narrative, transmitted from century to century at the 
domestic hearth to obscure generations of common people could 
not, before the invention of the printing press, have any evil 
effect further than to perpetuate execrable traditions within a 
single family. It is so no longer. These rhapsodies are stamped 
with the race hatred borne by the Gauls towards the Franks, 


I 


272 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


the conquered towards the conquerors, the serf towards the 
seigneur, the subject towards the Crown and the Church. To-day 
these rhapsodies could be multiplied indefinitely through the 
printing press, and thus diffused among the evil-minded people, 
ever but too prone to rebellion against the pontifical and royal 
authorities. Enlightened by these narratives upon historical 
events that should forever be a closed book to them, if they are 
to entertain a feeling of blind submission, a sense of respect, and 
a wholesome dread for the throne and the altar, the evil-minded 
common people would in the future engage with ever greater 
audacity in those revolts that not a single century has hitherto 
been wholly free from,—a state of things that the Society of 
Jesus, with the aid of God, will reduce to order. 

“Therefore, it is urgent that these manuscripts be destroyed 
without delay, as proposed by our beloved son Lefevre, and that 
the traditions of the Lebrenn family be shattered by the follow¬ 
ing means: 

“To cause the father and mother to be sentenced as heretics. 
The proofs of their heresy are plentiful. The torture and the 
pyre for the infamous wretches. 

“To lock up in a convent the son and the daughter (Hena and 
Herv6) now in Paris, and compel them to take the vows. 

“As to the youngest son, Odelin, fifteen years of age, and at 
present traveling in Italy with Master Raimbaud, an armorer, 
who is also reported to be a heretic, the return of the lad to 
Paris must be awaited, and then the identical course pursued 
towards him—capture him, lock him up in a convent, and com¬ 
pel him to take the vows. He is fifteen years old. Despite the 
taint of his early bringing-up, it will be easy to operate upon a 
child of that age. If, contrary to all likelihood, he can not be 
reduced to reason, he shall be kept in the convent until eighteen. 
Then he shall be pronounced guilty of heresy, and burned alive. 

I insist it is important, not only to destrov the said manu¬ 
scripts, but also to shatter the traditions of the Lebrenn family, 
and extinguish the same, either by delivering it to the secular 
arm on crimes of heresy, or by burying its last scions forever in 
the shadow of the cloister. 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE. 


273 


“The fact must be kept well in mind—there is no such thing 
as small enemies. The slightest of causes often produces great 
effects. At a given moment, on the occasion of a rebellion, one 
resolute man may be enough to carry the populace with him. 
Due to its secular traditions, the Lebrenn family might produce 
such a man. Such an eventuality must be prevented; the family 
must be uprooted. 

“If, supposing the impossible, the measures herein indicated 
should fail of success, if this dangerous stock should perpetuate 
Itself, then, it is necessary that our Order, equally perpetual, 
always keep its eye upon these Lebrenns , who are certain to gen¬ 
erate infamous scoundrels. 

“The instance of this family is one instance among the thou¬ 
sand that go to prove the necessity of the register I have 
often mentioned. I order that one be kept in each division by 
the provincial of our Society. I order that the names of the 
families upon whom the attention of our Society should be par¬ 
ticularly directed, be inscribed in these registers. These records, 
preserved and transmitted from century to century, will furnish 
our Society the means of surveillance and of action upon future 
generations. Such is my will. 

“Our beloved son Lefevre will therefore start the register for 
the 'province of France by entering in it the name of the Lebrenn 
family. There shall also be entered the names of Robert Estienne, 
of Gaspard of Coligny, of the Prince of Gerolstein, of Ambroise 
Pare, of Clement Marot, of Bernard Palissy, of the Viscount of 
Plouernel and of others, too numerous to recite at this place, but 
who will be found on the heretics’ lists furnished by Gainier to 
the Criminal Lieutenant, who shall furnish the said documents 
without delay to our beloved son Lefevre, whom may God guard. 

“I. L.” 


“Ignatius Loyolaexplained Christian translating the 
initials I and L pronounced by Eobert Estienne, who 
gazed upon the artisan dumbfounded. The latter pro- 


274 THE POCKET BIBLE. 

ceeded with a mournful and bitter tone: “The orders of 
Ignatius Loyola were followed. My wife—■” and he 
choked a sob, “my wife was arrested and imprisoned for 
a heretic. Blessed be Thou, Oh, God! she died in prison. 
Her death saved her, no doubt, from the stake! My daugh¬ 
ter was taken to the convent of the Augustinian sisters, 
where the poor child was yesterday compelled to pronounce 
eternal vows. My son Herve—Oh, the monster no longer 
deserves to be called a son—” 

“What is there against him?” 

“A letter of my daughter, written to her mother, whose 
death she was not aware of, put me on the scent of a hor¬ 
rible secret. This morning I questioned my brother-in- 
law, who, happier than I, had the opportunity of seeing 
Bridget in her prison. He unveiled to me a distressful 
mystery—■” 

“Proceed with your tale, my friend.” 

Wiping away the cold perspiration that bathed his fore¬ 
head, the artisan went on to say: “Herve entered the Con¬ 
vent of the Cordeliers, not against his will, but joyfully! 
He will not part from Fra Girard, the demon who led him 
astray. They are now waiting for my son Odelin to re¬ 
turn from Italy. Alas, the boy is on his way to Paris and 
I have not been able to notify Master Baimbaud of what 
has happened, not knowing where to address a letter to 
him. They will fall into the hands of our enemies.” 

“Just heavens!” exclaimed Eobert Estienne, struck by a. 
sudden thought and breaking in upon Christian. “There 
can be no doubt about it. A minute ago, as I listened to 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIEHHE. 275 

your account of how the orders of Ignatius Loyola were 
followed, I wondered how—even in these sad days when 
the freedom and lives of our citizens are at the mercy of 
the good or ill will of Cardinal Duprat and his agent, the 
Criminal Lieutenant, John Morin—I wondered how the 
plot concocted against your whole family could be executed 
with such rapidity. I now wonder no longer. Ignatius 
Loyola exercises a powerful influence over the Cardinal, 

' who has joined the Society of Jesus.” 

“Is, then, the Society of Jesus already so highly con¬ 
nected ?” 

“No doubt about it! When I went to entreat the inter¬ 
cession of Princess Marguerite in behalf of Mary La Ca- 
telle, John Dubourg, Laforge and others of our friends, 
my protectress inquired from me whether I knew a certain 
nobleman, still young of years and lame of foot, who al¬ 
most every day held protracted conferences with the Car¬ 
dinal, over whom he wielded an absolute sway. Thanks to 
the information I had from you, I was able to enlighten 
the Princess concerning the chief of the new Order of 
Jesuits. It is evident that it was with the connivance of 
the Cardinal that Ignatius Loyola was enabled to smite 
your family. But what I could not yet understand was 
the reason that drove that man to pursue you with such 
inveteracy and to aim at your very life.” 

“Ignatius Loyola undoubtedly does not pardon my hav¬ 
ing surprised the secret of his Order. Lefevre, one of his 
disciples and a former friend of mine, saw me on the oc¬ 
casion of that fatal night concealed behind a big boulder 


276 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


at the bottom of the quarry. He affected not to notice 
me, in order not to awaken my suspicions, and the very 
next day he led the archers of the patrol to my house, 
seized my family papers, with which I had made him ac¬ 
quainted, and climbed to the garret, where, finding some 
scraps of letters left behind him by John Calvin, he must 
by those means have been put upon the track of the coun¬ 
cil of the reformers held at Montmartre. Only an hour or 
two after the arrival of our co-religionists the quarry was 
invaded by the archers.” 

“But how did your family chronicles and the note about 
them fall back into your hands?” 

“Also through the efforts of my wife’s brother, the sol¬ 
dier of adventure I have often spoken of to you. Josephin, 
that is my brother-in-law’s name, was going to our house 
when Bridget and my children were arrested. He saw 
them taken away. He also saw a man, Mad in a black 
frock, with the cowl over his head, carry off the casket 
that contained our legends. That man was my friend 
Lefevre. Once out of my house, and no longer deeming 
it necessary to conceal his face, he raised his cowl and 
Josephin recognized him. The discovery was a revelation 
to me. That night my brother-in-law could not attempt 
to free my wife and children from the hands of the arch¬ 
ers. He remained in the neighborhood on the watch for 
me. It was by him I was apprized of the arrest of my 
family. At length, yesterday, having encountered near my 
house an Augustinian monk, who left the convent surrep¬ 
titiously, he learned from him that my daughter had been 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE. 277 

made to take the veil. Once posted upon where Hena was 
to be found, the Franc-Taupin decided to abduct her from 
the cloister, helped therein by two other resolute fellows. 
He succeeded in the perilous undertaking. Finally, hav¬ 
ing no doubt that the casket containing my family chron¬ 
icles was in Lefevre’s possession, he repaired early in the 
morning to Montaigu College with his two trusty com¬ 
panions, and took away from the Jesuit the casket in 
which, jointly with our family chronicles, was the note of 
Ignatius Loyola. These he brought to me at noon to-day.” 

“What devotion! Thanks to the brave adventurer, your 
daughter is restored to you! The monk to whom you have 
extended hospitality is, I suppose, the same who escaped 
from the convent, and placed the Franc-Taupin in posi¬ 
tion to deliver your daughter. The situation begins tc 
look less dangerous.” 

“Yes, Monsieur Estienne. And now I implore you, 
lighten my path with your advice. My head swims. I 
am a prey to cruel perplexities.” 

“Are you afraid your daughter may he traced to this 
house ?” 

“That fear is terrible enough, but is not what troubles 
me most.” 

“What is it that troubles you?” 

Christian sobbed aloud: “You do not yet know all. The 
monk is Brother St. Ernest-Martyr.” 

“He is a true disciple of Christ! Often did Mary La 
Catelle tell me he inclined towards the Reformation 

“Listen, Monsieur Estienne. The monk was hardly in 


278 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


the house, where he arrived worn to a skeleton by a slow 
fever, when he lost consciousness. I gave him all the care 
1 could. I divested him of his frock, laid him in my bed, 
and watched over him. A few leaves of paper dropped 
out of his clothes. I picked them up. As I ran my eyes 
over them I read the name of my daughter. I admit that- 
1 yielded to an impulse of curiosity, blameworthy, per¬ 
haps, but irresistible. I opened the leaves. What a dis¬ 
covery !” 

“The leaves of paper—” 

“Contained fragments of a sort of diary, to which the 
thoughts of the young monk were confided. From them 
I learned that he was chosen for the confessor and instruc¬ 
tor of my daughter at the convent of the Augustinian sis¬ 
ters—and he became enamored of her. He loves Hena to 

\ 

distraction!” 

“Does he know you to be aware of his secret?” 

“Yes. When he recovered consciousness he saw the frag¬ 
ments of his journal in my hands. He uttered a cry of 
fear. ‘Be calm/ I said to him; ‘it is the soul of an hon¬ 
est man that stands reflected in these revelations. I can 
only pity you.’ ” 

“Is your daughter here in the house with him?” 

“My daughter,” answered Christian, turning to Robert 
Estienne a face bathed in tears, “my daughter is not aware 
of the young monk’s passion—and, in her turn, she loves 
him.” 

“Unhappy child!” 

“Her love is killing her. It was one of the reasons that 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE. 279 

decided her to take the veil. She has told me all, with her 
natural candor.” 

“Have Hena and the young monk met since they are 
here ?” 

“No. The poor young man—his name was Ernest Ren- 
nepont before he took orders—the moment he learned 
from me of my daughters presence in the house, wanted 
to deliver himself forthwith to the Superior of his Order, 
lest we be all taken for accomplices in his flight. I firmly 
objected to his determination, seeing it meant the loss of 
his life.” 

“Then these young folks are unaware that their love is 
reciprocated ?” 

“It will be her death, Monsieur Estienne, it will be her 
death! I lose my head endeavoring to find a way out of 
this tangle of ills. What am I to do? What shall I de¬ 
cide ? I asked you to come to me without saying why, be¬ 
cause I rely upon your great wisdom. You may, perhaps, 
be able to light the chaos of these afflictions which cause 
me to stagger with despair. I see only pitfalls and perils 
around us.” 

Christian paused. 

Robert Estienne remained a few minutes steeped in 
silent reflection. 

“My friend,” said the latter, “you know the life of 
Luther as well as I. That great reformer, a monk like 
Ernest Rennepont, and, like him, one time full of faith 
in the Roman Church, withdrew from her fold on account 


280 


TKE POCKET BIBLE. 


of the scandals that he witnessed. Do you think Ernest 
Eennepont is ready to embrace the Deformation ?” 

“I do not know his intentions in that regard. But when 
he saw I was informed of his love for Hena, he exclaimed: 
‘Miserable monk that I am, by loving Hena I have com¬ 
mitted a crime in the eyes of the Church* And yet, God 
5s my witness, the purity of my love would do honor to 
any upright man, not condemned to celibacy.’ ” 

“Let us return to Luther. That reformer always took 
the stand with irresistible logic against the celibacy of 
clergymen—•” 

“Great God!” cried Christian breaking in upon Robert 
Estienne. “What recollections your words awaken in my 
memory! The fragments of the diary written by the un¬ 
fortunate monk mention a dream in which he saw himself 
a pastor of the Evangelical religion, and husband of Hena, 
giving, like herself, instruction to little children.” 

“Why should not Ernest Eennepont conform his con¬ 
duct with the precepts of Luther?” 

“Oh, monsieur!” murmured Christian, carrying both 
his hands to his burning temples. “Hope and doubt dis¬ 
turb my reason. I dare not give myself over to such a 
thought, out of fear that I be miserably disillusioned. And 
yet, your words bear the stamp of wisdom and good will.” 

“My friend, let us reason calmly. Control your anxiety 
for a moment. The young monk is a man of heart; we may 
not doubt that. Has not his conduct during these recent 
circumstances increased your affection for him?” 

“It is true. I esteem him greatly.” 


TEE COTTAGE OF ROBERT EETIENNE. 281 

"Does not, as he expressed it, his pure and noble love 
for Hena do honor to any upright man?” 

"I firmly believe so after reading the pages which Ernest 
Rennepont believed he wrote for none but his own eyes.” 

"Now, my friend, let us suppose he embraces the re¬ 
formed religion. His knowledge, his good habits and his 
liking for teaching little children—all that would render 
him worthy of being a minister of the new church. I feel 
almost certain our friend would present his name with joy 
to our brothers for election, and these will acclaim him 
their pastor. Never could the Evangelical word have a 
worthier interpreter.” 

"Oh, Monsieur Estienne, have mercy! Do not cheer 
my heart with such supreme hopes, destined, perhaps, to 
be dashed.” 

"Alas, you have suffered so much, that I can well under¬ 
stand your hesitation to foster a consoling hope. But re¬ 
flect an instant, and you will admit that the hope is in no 
wise an exaggerated one. Let us sum up—Ernest Renne- 
pont renounces his Order, embraces the Reformation, is 
chosen a pastor, and he can then contract marriage. Grant¬ 
ing all this, do you not believe your daughter will consent 
to the union, if you approve of it ?” 

"She is dying of that fatal love, believing herself sepa¬ 
rated from Ernest Rennepont by an unbridgeable chasm 
of impossibilities. She surely would not refuse to wed the 
man she loves.” 

"Well, then, my friend, what other obstacles do you see ? 
Do not these expectations, so far from being deceptive, be- 


282 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


come certainties? Does not the grief of the unfortunate 
couple change into ineffable bliss? You remain worried, 
dejected.” 

“Monsieur Estienne, the project is too beautiful!” 

“Christian! How can you, a man of sense and firmness, 
succumb to such weakness of spirit!” 

“The death of my wife, the lamentable position in which 
my beloved daughter finds herself, the crime of the wretch 
whom I can no longer call my son—so many sorrows, 
heaped one upon the other, have cracked the springs of 
my soul. I feel myself overwhelmed and nerveless.” 

“And yet, at no time have you been in greater need of 
energy. You say, my friend, that the plan is too beau¬ 
tiful? But, should it be realized, do you not still run 
grave dangers ? Do you forget that your freedom and life 
are both threatened? Do you forget that, at this very 
hour, they are seeking to track Ernest Rennepont and 
your daughter? Regain courage with the hope of tri¬ 
umphing over your enemies. We must carry on the strug¬ 
gle without truce or let.” 

“Thanks, Monsieur Estienne; thanks! Your words 
comfort me. Yes; nevertheless, the plan you propose and 
which would snatch my daughter from the despair that is 
killing her—that plan is yet far from being accomplished.” 

“This is what I shall do. Should the errand embarrass 
you, I shall myself see Ernest Rennepont, shall propose 
to him to embrace the Reformation and become a pastor 
of the new church in order to verify his dream—provided 
Hena accepts the union. When we shall have made sure 


TEE COTTAGE OF ROBERT E8TIENNE. 283 

of Ernest Rennepont’s consent, you shall see your daugh¬ 
ter. I do not believe there is any doubt about her answer. 
The marriage being agreed upon, we must make haste. The 
disappearance of Hena and the forceful restitution of your 
family archives will redouble the zeal of your persecutors. 
Neither you, your daughter, nor her husband would any 
longer be safe in the neighborhood of Paris. I have al¬ 
ready considered the emergency when this retreat would 
cease to offer security to you. I have a friend who is a 
printer in La Rochelle, a fortified town, rich, industrious, 
well armed, wholly devoted to the Reformation, and so 
full of reliance on the power of her municipal franchise, 
her ramparts and the bravery of her numerous inhabitants, 
as confidently to defy our enemies. You and yours will be 
there in perfect safety. You can live there on the fruit of 
your labor. Better than anyone else, I know how skilled 
a mechanic you are. Finally, if you should have to leave 
Paris before the return of Odelin—” 

“Oh, Monsieur Estienne, I tremble at the thought of 
that Lefevre on the watch for the lad’s return in order to 
kidnap him! What a blow that would be to me! What a 
fate have our enemies in store for my poor Odelin!” 

“I shall take charge of that. To-morrow I shall see 
Madam Raimbaud. Her husband has probably notified 
her when she may expect him home from Italy. If so, 
and even otherwise, your brother-in-law, the Franc-Taupin, 
who already has given you so many proofs of his devo¬ 
tion, will be able to aid us in preventing your son from 


284 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


being kidnapped. I greatly rely upon his assistance.’* 

“May heaven hear you !” 

“Travelers from Italy usually enter Paris by the Bas¬ 
tille Gate.” 

“Yes. Besides, seeing that Master Raimbaud, like most 
all armorers, resides in the neighborhood of that fortress, 
it is almost certain he will come by the suburb of St. An¬ 
toine. That point is settled.” 

“If Madam Raimbaud is informed upon the date of her 
husband’s arrival, the Pranc-Taupin must be placed on 
watch along the road from Italy, or near the Bastille. He 
will then warn your son not to enter the city, and deliver 
to him a letter from you directing him to meet you in La 
Rochelle. I shall take charge of supplying Odefin with 
the necessary funds for the journey. When in La Rochelle, 
near you, he will continue his armorer’s trade. And now, 
Christian, I share your prevision. The times are approach¬ 
ing when, more than ever, there will be work for those 
whose occupation is the forging of implements of war. 
Come, courage! Let us reserve ourselves for the struggle.” 

“How can I express my gratitude to you. You think of 
everything.” 

“My friend, for the space of two generations your family 
and mine have mutually rendered each other so many serv¬ 
ices that it is impossible to say on which side the debt lies 
heavier. Let us not lose an instant’s time. Take me to 
Ernest Rennepont. So soon as I shall know his mind, I 
shall inform you. You will then propose the marriage to 
your daughter with the caution that the occasion requires. 


THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT EST1ERXE. 285 

In her present delicate condition, after all the sufferings 
she has undergone, care must be taken not to shock her 
even with joy. Joy may kill, as well as despair.” 

Christian led Bobert Estienne to the apartment of the 
young monk, and leaving the two alone, impatiently await¬ 
ed the issue of their interview, whereupon he was to see 
Hena. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE. 

Sister St. Frances-in-the-Tomb, as Plena Lebrenn was 
christened in religion, occupied in the cottage a chamber 
contiguous to that of her father. The young girl still wore 
the nun’s garb. The pallor of her visage, framed in the 
folds of her coif and her long white veil, was hardly dis¬ 
tinguishable from the dull whiteness of the linen. Pain and 
resignation were traced on her features, that emaciation 
rendered almost transparent. Seated near a window, her 
hands clasped over her knees, and her large blue eyes raised 
to heaven, she seemed to contemplate without seeing them 
the somber clouds which the north wind drove before it 
with weird moanings. Hena’s thoughts turned upon the 
events of the last three days. Despite her decision to de¬ 
vote herself to a nun’s life, as the only means of again 
seeing her family, to live never again under the same roof 
with her brother whose passion for her inspired the maid 
with invincible horror, and to bury forever in the chilly 
shadows of the cloister her fatal love for St. Ernest-Mar- 
tyr—despite these sentiments, on the night that, her vows 
being pronounced, she was praying in the solitude of the 
Virgin’s chapel, she welcomed her uncle Josephin as a lib- 



FOR BETTER AND FOR WO REE. 287 

erator, and never hesitated an instant to flee with him from 
the convent of the Angnstinian sisters. She w r as ignorant 
of her mother’s fate. The hope of soon, after so cruel a 
separation, being again in the embrace of the parents she 
loved so dearly, occupied all her thoughts. When, upon 
seeing Christian again, the young girl learned of her moth¬ 
er’s death, the persecutions that he himself was the object 
of, and the presence of Brother St. Ernest-Martyr in the 
same retreat, her head reeled. Weakened by suffering ana 
bewildered by so many unexpected events, the girl’s mind 
threatened for a moment to go astray. Her native vigor 
carried, however, the day. She said to herself: 

“My duty is clear. I shall stay near my father. I shall 
endeavor with my tenderness to soften his sorrow for the 
loss of my mother. ‘He must flee this place. I shall ac¬ 
company him in his exile. I shall also take my mother’? 
place to my brother Odelin. I shall not endeavor to forget 
Brother St. Ernest-Martyr. But, while preserving this 
love sacred in the recesses of my heart, to you, 0, my God, 
1 pray—grant through Your infinite mercy that this love 
do not kill me—grant to preserve my life for the sake of 
my father, who stands in need of my care and my affec¬ 
tion !” 

Such were the reflections of the young girl, when, some 
hours after his interview with Robert Estienne, she saw 
Christian enter her chamber. The printer’s face reflected 
suppressed happiness. Tears, sweet tears they now were, 
flowed from his eyes. Despite his desire not to betray his 
joy before his daughter, lest he cause her too deep an emo- 


288 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


tion, he could not withhold pressing her repeatedly to his 
heart, and covering her face with kisses. Touched by such 
tender effusion, and struck by the change in her father’s 
appearance, Hena cried: 

“God be praised, father, you bring me good news! Are 
you no longer pursued ? You will no longer have to keep 
in hiding?” 

Christian shook his head, and still holding his daughter 
in his arms, contemplated her, enraptured. He sat down; 
placed her on his knees, as a little child is placed; and in 
a voice that trembled wdtli emotion, said: 

“Yes, my dear Hena; yes, my beloved child, I have good 
news for you—but not what you thought. We are soon Lo 
leave this retreat, where our persecutors might discover 
us, and we shall go far away from here, in order to escape 
all pursuit.” 

“And yet, father, your voice trembles with joy. I read 
happiness on your face.” 

“The good, the unexpected tidings that I bring—con r 
cern you—you alone—” 

“Me alone, father?” 

“Yo; not you alone—what is good to you, is it not good 
to me also ?” 

Hena looked at her father, surprised. The latter hesi¬ 
tated to say more, fearing the consequences of too sudden 
a revelation. He paused for a moment and proceeded: 

“Do you know, my child, what the pastor of the re¬ 
formed religion is?” 

“I believe he is a minister of the Evangelium; is it not ?” 



FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE. 


289 


“Yes, the pastors spread the Evangelical word. But, 
contrary to the Catholic priests, who are condemned to 
celibacy by the Church, the ministers of the reformed cult 
are free to contract matrimony, and to fulfil its obliga¬ 
tions.” 

A smile of sadness flitted over Hena’s lips. Her father 
followed her closely with his eyes. He fathomed her secret 
thoughts. 

“The right of its ministers to be husbands and fathers, 
recognized by the Evangelical church, has induced several 
Catholic priests to break with Borne and embrace the Be- 
formation.” 

Dropping her head upon her father's shoulder, Hena 
wept. Christian drew himself slightly back in order to 
raise the tear-bedewed visage of his daughter, whom he 
still kept upon his knees, his arms around her, and his 
heart beating with hope. 

“Hena, no doubt you have been thinking to yourself: 
‘Alas, Brother St. Ernest-Martyr is a Catholic priest V ” 

“You have guessed my thoughts, dear father. I thought 
to myself there was nothing for me but to bow before so 
fatal a state of things. But let us talk about that good 
news which you seem so anxious to impart to me.” 

“Very well, dear child—but in order not to have to re¬ 
turn again to a matter painful to you, I shall begin by 
saying that Brother St. Ernest-Martyr, or rather Ernest 
Bennepont, which is his real name, withdraws himself from 
the Cathplic Church and embraces the Beformation.” 

Christian felt Hena trembling convulsively upon his 


200 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


knees. The poor child carried both her hands to her face, 
whence fresh drops of tears flowed down upon her robe. 

“My dear child/’ resumed the artisan, hardly able to 
repress his gladness, “there is still another confession which 
I expect from your frankness. You are saying to yourself, 
are you not: ‘Ernest Rennepont abjured his vow's—he is 
free—he can now choose a wife—if he would only love 
me!’ ” 

“Father, good father, let us drop such thoughts!” 

“Oh, my beloved child!” cried the artisan radiant with 
joy. “Oh, my only support, my only consolation! Cour¬ 
age ! Courage! Not now any more in order to resist sor¬ 
row—but to defend you—from the transports that an un¬ 
expected happiness often causes us—” 

“An unexpected happiness, father?” 

“Yes, the gladsome tidings that I bring to you are— 
first, Ernest Rennepont’s resolution to become a pastor of 
the Evangelical church. Thus he is free to marry, "with¬ 
out discontinuing his services to God. Yes, and do you 
know, Hena, that if the most cherished wish of his heart 
is verified, do you know, Hena, who would be the wife of 
his choice? It would be—it would be you—you, my treas¬ 
ure ! Ernest Rennepont loves you to distraction since the 
day he first saw you at Mary La Catelle’s.” 

Despite the precautions taken by her father, Hena could 
not resist the shock of the revelation. Still holding his 
daughter upon his knees, Christian saw her lose color, her 
head dropped upon his shoulder, she lost consciousness. 
He rose, carried the girl to her bed, at the head of which 

l 

\ 


FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE. 291 

he knelt down, and awaited the end of the crisis that the 
excess of joy had brought on. A moment later he heard 
a rap at the door. He asked: 

“Is it you, Monsieur Estienne ?” 

“Yes—and I am not alone.” 

“Do not come in now,” answered Christian. “Hena is 
in a swoon. I fear that in recovering consciousness the 
sight of her betrothed might cause an immediate relapse.” 

Certain motions of Hena, and the light flush that by 
degrees returned to her cheeks, announced the girl’s grad¬ 
ual recovery. Her eyes remained half shut. She turned 
her haggard face towards her father. Presently, fixing 
upon him her still partly veiled eyes, she seemed to inter¬ 
rogate her confused recollections. 

“No, my dear child,” said the artisan; “it is not a 
dream. You are not the sport of an illusion. Ernest Ren- 
nepont renounces the monastic life; he embraces the Evan¬ 
gelical creed, of which he will be a pastor. He has long 
loved you with the purest and noblest love. I surprised the 
secret of his soul. Never did father wish for his daughter 
a husband more worthy of esteem and affection.” And 
pointing with his finger to the door: “He is there, accom¬ 
panied by our friend, Monsieur Estienne. Do you feel 
yourself strong enough to receive them, my poor, dear 
child ? Would you like to have them come in ?” 

“He loves me!” cried Hena, taking her father’s hands 
and kissing them. “He loves me, also ! Since when ?” 

“Yes, yes—He will tell you all that himself,” answered 
Christian with a smile of ineffable happiness. “He is there. 


292 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


He awaits but your consent to come to you, my dear child.” 

Hena sat up on her couch, placed one of her hands on 
her heart to restrain its throbs and still too much moved 
to speak, made to her father an affirmative sign. The ar¬ 
tisan thereupon introduced Robert Estienne, supporting on 
his arm Ernest Rennepont. At that moment the sound of 
a horse’s hoofs was heard from the yard. Yielding to an 
involuntary sense of uneasiness, Christian ran to the win¬ 
dow, and was at once put at ease at seeing his brother-in- 
law the Franc-Taupin alighting from his mount. Hena 
and Ernest Rennepont, strangers to what went on around 
them, saw but each other. When the young man was near 
. enough to the couch on which Hena was seated, he dropped 
on his knees before her, clasped his hands, and raised up 
to her his pale visage, now radiant with celestial bliss. Un¬ 
able to utter a word, the two contemplated each other, ab¬ 
sorbed. Robert Estienne could not hold back the tears that 
gathered in his eyes. The artisan stepped towards the two 
lovers, took Hena’s hand, placed it in Ernest Rennepont’s, 
who had remained on his knees, and said in a voice broken 
with emotion: 

“Be betrothed—never have nobler hearts been worthier 
of each other.” 

Christian was pronouncing these solemn words when the 
Franc-Taupin entered. Already informed by his brother- 
in-law of the mutual love of the two young folks, the sol¬ 
dier of adventure thrilled with joy at seeing them united. 

“Know the rest, my friend,” said the artisan to Jo- 
sephin. “My daughter and he who from this day is my 


FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE. 


293 


son owe their liberty to you. You are entitled to know all 
that concerns them. Ernest Rennepont renounces his 
monastic vows; he abjures Catholicism and embraces the 
Reformation, of which he is to be a pastor. As you know, 
the Evangelical pastors can marry/’ 

“It is my advice that the marriage be promptly conclud¬ 
ed,” answered the Franc-Taupin in a low voice as he led 
Christian and Robert Estienne to the window, while the 
betrothed couple remained under the spell of a profound 
ecstasy, hearing nothing, seeing nothing of what happened 
around them. The Franc-Taupin proceeded in a low voice: 
“I have come from Paris in a hurry. I heard an announce¬ 
ment made to the sound of trumps, to the effect that Sister 
St. Frances-in-the-Tomb and Brother St. Emest-Martyr 
are adjudged relapsed, and subject to the punishment vis¬ 
ited upon such a sin—the stake!” 

“The stake!” muttered Robert Estienne, shivering with 
horror, while making an inslant sign intended to check an 
exclamation of terror that Christian was on the point of 
giving vent to. 

“Time presses,” proceeded the Franc-Taupin. “My 
brother-in-law, his daughter and the young monk must 
leave this house this very night. It will not be safe to¬ 
morrow.” 

“I am of your opinion,” answered Robert Estienne. 
“This is the way we shall proceed: You, Josephin, will re¬ 
turn to Paris on the spot with a letter from me to one of 
our pastors, urging him to come here this very evening in 
order to take the abjuration of Ernest Rennepont, and give 


294 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


his nuptial benediction to the betrothed couple. Immediate¬ 
ly after, Hena and her husband will set out, with you, and 
Christian, who will take my horse. His daughter will ride 
on the crupper.” 

“The young monk shall ride behind me on my nag,*' 
said the Franc-Taupin. “I shall escort the fugitives to a 
distance of five or six leagues from Paris.” 

“When you come back here bring with you lay clothes 
for the young couple,” said Robert Estienne, handing his 
purse to the Franc-Taupin. “You will also pay the price 
of your nag to the stableman from whom you have the 
animal. Ernest Rennepont shall keep it, and ride on it 
with Christian and his daughter to La Rochelle. Only there 
will they all three be safe. There is not an instant to lose. 
Quick, to horse, Josephin, to horse! The lives of us all 
are at stake.” 

The Franc-Taupin left hurriedly, casting a tender look 
upon Hena and Ernest Rennepont. The two, their hearts 
in heaven, remained ignorant of the new dangers that 
threatened them. The eyes of the Society of Jesus were 
open. 

Midnight soon arrived. Robert Estienne, Christian, his 
daughter, Ernest Rennepont and the Franc-Taupin assem¬ 
bled in the parlor of the country house, the unsafe refuge 
that they were soon to quit. An old man, with long white 
hair, the pastor of the Evangelical church, responded to 
the call of Robert Estienne, in order to receive the abjura¬ 
tion of the betrothed couple and bestow upon them his 


FOR BETTER AXD FOR WORSE. 295 

nuptial benediction. A table with a few wax candles stood 
at the rear of the apartment. On the table were also an 
ink-horn, pens, paper, and a little pocket Bible with silver 
clasps. Hena and Ernest Bennepont were in front of the 
table. Behind it stood the pastor. Bobert Estienne, Chris¬ 
tian and the Franc-Taupin assisted the betrothed couple. 
The agitation caused by so many unexpected events, and 
the intoxication of repressed happiness animated the re¬ 
cently pallid countenances of the bride and bridegroom. 
Wrapped in meditation, and their thoughts turning to the 
past, they raised their souls to God in a transport of speech¬ 
less gratitude. They implored the mercy of their Creator. 
There was nothing terrestrial in their love. They saw in 
the consecration of their marriage only the right to devote 
themselves to each other, to vie in mutual sacrifices and 
abnegation, and to serve the holy cause of progress. They 
knew the perils that the apostles of the new doctrine must 
confront. 

Taking from the table a sheet of paper, the pastor read 
in a solemn voice the following act of abjuration: 

“ ‘On this 19th day of December, 1534, appeared before 
us Ernest Bennepont, called in his religion Brother St. 
Ernest-Martyr, and Louise Hena Lebrenn, called in her 
religion Sister St. Erances-in-the-Tomb, who declare they 
desire to renounce the Boman idolatry, and swear to con¬ 
fess the Evangelical religion, to live and die in the faith, 
and to participate in the holy sacrament of communion. 
Upon these conditions Louise Hena Lebrenn and Ernest 
Bennepont have been informed that they will be admitted 


296 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


to the Evangelical church’ 1 —Be pleased to sign the act of 
abjuration.” 

Hena and Ernest signed the act with steady hands. 
Thereupon they knelt down upon two seats brought in by 
Christian and the Franc-Taupin. The pastor resumed, 
and addressed the couple with a moved voice: 

“You, Hena Lebrenn, and you, Ernest Rennepont, will 
you live together in the marriage state that God himself 
has instituted, and which St. Paul represents as among the 
most honorable of conditions? If that is your intention, 
Hena Lebrenn and Ernest Rennepont, make your will 
known. Are you willing to be united to each other ?” 

“Yes,” answered Ernest, raising his eyes as if to take 
heaven for his witness. 

“Yes,” answered Hena in her turn. 

“Then,” resumed the pastor, “may the Lord deign to 
bless your wishes. You, Ernest Rennepont, do you de- 
clare, here before God, that you have taken and do hereby 
take Hena Lebrenn, here present, for your wife ? Do you 
promise to live holily with her, to be true to her, as is the 
duty of a good and faithful husband, and God commands 
you by His word?” 

“Yes!” answered Ernest Rennepont. 

“And you, Hena Lebrenn, do you declare here before 
God, that you have taken and do hereby take Ernest Renne¬ 
pont, here present, for your husband ? Do you promise to 
love him, to live holily with him, and to keep your troth to 


1 Form adopted by tbe Consistory 



FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE . 


297 


him as is the duty of a faithful wife, and as God com¬ 
mands you by His word?” 

“Yes/’ answered Hena, with her eyes modestly cast down. 

• “Keep your promises to each other,” said the pastor in 

• 

conclusion. “Seeing God has united you in the sacred 
bonds of matrimony, live together in peace, in unity, in 
purity, helpful to each other, and faithful to your pledge, 
obedient to the divine command. Oh, Lord God! Lord of 
wisdom and of goodness!” added the Evangelical pastor, 
joining his venerable hands in prayer, “since it has pleased 
Thee to call this man and this woman to the holy state of 
matrimony—should it be Thy will that children be born 
to them, cause them, as worthy husband and wife, to raise 
their offspring in piety and to train them to virtue.” 1 

The touching solemnity of the ceremony was suddenly 
interrupted by the precipitate entrance of Michael, the 
gardener. Pale and distracted he rushed to the house and 
threw the door open, crying: 

“Monsieur Estienne—malediction upon me! You are 
betrayed!” 

A moment of silent stupor ensued upon these words. 
Hena threw herself instinctively into her father’s arms. 
Ernest Eennepont approached her. The Franc-Taupin 
dashed to the window and listened in the direction of the 
yard, while the pastor raised his eyes heavenward, saying: 

“Oh, Lord, if Thou reservest me for martyrdom, the 
victim is ready, may Thy will be done!” 

1 Protestant marriage service, vid; translated into French by 
according to the Psalms of Da- Clement Marot, Geneva. 



298 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“We are betrayed, Michael ?” cried Robert Estienne. 
“Who could have betrayed us?*’ 

“My wife—Oh, that accursed confession! Alison re¬ 
vealed to our curate that a monk and a nun were here in 
hiding. My wife has just admitted it to me amid tears. 
The curate departed post haste to Paris, immediately after 
confessing and extracting the secret from her. Death and 
a curse upon the infamous wretch!” 

And throwing himself at the feet of Robert Estienne, 
Michael cried with clasped hands: 

“My good and worthy master! Do not take me for a 
wicked or dishonorable man. I am not guilty of the trea¬ 
son !” 

“To horse !” bellowed the Franc-Taupin. “We must de¬ 
part at once! The curate will have notified his bishop, the 
bishop will have notified Cardinal Duprat, and he will have 
issued orders to the Criminal Lieutenant. By this time the 
archers must be on the road to St. Ouen. Let us lose not 
an instant—to horse ! Mine is saddled—have yours sad- 
died, Monsieur Estienne. Christian will take his daugh¬ 
ter on the crupper of his horse. I shall take Ernest Renne- 
pont on my nag—and, away at a gallop! We shall soon be 
out of reach.” 

Putting the word to the deed, the Franc-Taupin dashed 
out of the parlor, dragging Ernest Rennepont with him 
almost against his will. Realizing the wisdom of the Franc- 
Taupin’s orders, Christian put one arm around Hena, sus¬ 
tained and led her in the steps of the Franc-Taupin. Rob- 


FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE. 299 

ert Estienne and the pastor hastened to follow them, while 
the despairing gardener lamented his fate, repeating: 

“That accursed confession ! The infamous curate !” 

The Franc-Taupin was hurrying his horse out of the 
stable and Robert Estienne was precipitately saddling his 
own with the help of Michael, when Alison, running in all 
in a flurry from the bypath that led to the outer gate of 
the cottage, cried: 

“Oh, my poor man, all is lost! The mounted archer3 
are here! I heard the tramp of their horses down the ave¬ 
nue. I saw their muskets glistening through the hedges 
along the road.” 

“Is the iron gate locked?” asked the Franc-Taupin, the 
only one to preserve coolness in the presence of the immi¬ 
nent danger. “Is the gate strong?” 

“It is strong and locked—double locked,” answered the 
gardener. “The key is in my house.” 

“It will take them some time to force the gate,” ob¬ 
served the Franc-Taupin; and addressing Robert Estienne: 
“Is there any issue, besides the gate, to leave the place?” 

“None other—the garden is enclosed by a wall.” 

“Is the wall high?” 

“About ten feet.” 

“Then,” replied the Franc-Taupin, “we need not de¬ 
spair.” 

At that moment the clank of sabres and muskets was 
heard down the principal avenue, and a voice called out: 

“Open ! In the name of the King, open !” 


300 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


“There are the archers!” cried Hena stricken with ter¬ 
ror. “It is done for ns!” 

“I shall deliver myself up!” cried Ernest Rennepont, 
rushing out towards the alley. “The archers may thereby 
be induced not to push their search any further. May the 
all-powerful God protect you!” 

The Franc-Taupin seized Hena’s bridegroom by the 
sleeve of his coat, and prevented him from taking another 
step. Turning to the gardener, he asked: 

“Have you a ladder?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Fetch it quick.” 

Michael obeyed, while the archers redoubled their clamor 
und threatened to force the gate if it was not opened. 

“Monsieur Estienne,” said the Franc-Taupin, “go for¬ 
ward quickly and speak with the archers. Ask them what 
brings them here, at this hour. Engage them in conversa¬ 
tion all you can. Keep them outside. Gain time. I take 
charge of the rest. If you can succeed in keeping the sol¬ 
diers off for about ten minutes, we shall have won. They 
will find no one else at the house.” 

Robert Estienne turned to Christian, who still held 
Hena in his arms: 

“Come, Christian! Courage! Coolness! The situation is 
hedged in with dangers; but it is not forlorn.” Saying 
this he walked to the iron gate, at the moment when the 
gardener reappeared carrying a long ladder on his shoulder. 

“What is there outside of the garden,” asked the Franc- 
Taupin, “a highroad or fields?” 


FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE. 301 

“Fields, sir; they are separated from the walls by a path 
and hedges. Be} 7 ond are meadows, as far as the eye ex¬ 
tends.” 

Josephin listened a moment, and noticing that the clamor 
of the archers at the gate had subsided, he said: 

“Courage! All’s well! Monsieur Estienne is parleying 
with the soldiers. We shall have time to flee.” And ad¬ 
dressing the gardener: “Lead us quickly to the furthest 
end of the garden.” 

Michael led the fugitives along a narrow path. After 
having walked about three hundred paces, he stepped be¬ 
fore a wall, against which he placed the ladder. 

“Quick!” ordered the Franc-Taupin, again stopping to 
listen. “The archers are becoming impatient. They are 
about to force the gate.” 

Christian was the first to ascend the ladder; he climbed 
to the top of the wall, straddled it, and, stooping down, 
reached his hand out to Hena. He took firm hold of her, 
raised her, and seated her, still holding her in his arms, in 
front of him on the top of the wall, where he was succes¬ 
sively joined by Ernest Eennepont and the Franc-Taupin. 
The latter drew the ladder up, with the help of the gar¬ 
dener, tipped it over to the other side, and quickly planted 
it outside the wall. One by one the fugitives descended and 
alighted upon a path bordered by thick and high hedges. 

“We are saved!” cried Christian, passionately clasping 
Hena to his heart. “We are saved, my dear child!” 

“Hot yet!” came thundering upon their ears. 

An archer rose from behind the hedge where he had been 


302 


TEE POCKET BIBLE 


lying in ambush. Immediately he sounded the alarm at 
the top of his voice: 

“Here, comrades! Here! This way 1” 

To leap over the hedge at a bound; to seize the archer 
by the throat with one hand, while with the other he drew 
his sword—these were the rapid moves of the Franc-Tail' 
pin. It was too late. The alarm given by the soldier was 
heard. Several other foot soldiers, who came on the crup¬ 
pers of the mounted archers, and were posted around the 
walls, hurried to the spot, preceded by a sergeant, and all 
cried in chorus: 

“Kill all who resist! Keep only the monk and the nun 
alive!” 

A melee ensued in the semi-darkness of the night. After 
superhuman efforts to tear his daughter from the soldiers, 
Christian was hewed down with a sword. Ernest Renne- 
pont and Hena remained in the hands of the armed men. 
After almost strangling the soldier who had given the 
alarm, the Franc-Taupin profited by the darkness to creep 
on hands and feet to a hedge under which he blotted him¬ 
self from sight. From his hiding place he heard Christian 
drop to the ground and call out in a fainting voice: “I am 
killed—help! help!” 

The artisan was left for dead by the archers. Obedient 
to the orders from their chief, their main object was the 
capture of the monk and the nun, whom they now carried 
safely away. Little by little silence returned to the se¬ 
questered region. Soon the sound of a retreating troop of 
horsemen announced the departure of the archers for Paris. 


FOR BETTER AttD FOR WORSE. 


303 


The Franc-Taupin emerged from his place of concealment, 
ran to Christian, knelt beside him, opened his coat and shirt 
soaked in blood, and placed his hand upon his heart. He 
felt it beat. 

“There is but one chance of safety for Christian,” said 
the Franc-Taupin to himself. “If the gardener has not 
been arrested, he will consent to grant asylum to the 
wounded man. Let me endeavor to snatch my brother-in- 
law from death—after that, I swear, you shall be avenged, 
Oh, my sister! Avenged shall be also your daughter, whose 
horrid fate I well foresee!” 

Michael and his wife consented to take in the wounded 
man, and nurse him in Robert Estienne’s house. The lat¬ 
ter and the pastor were taken prisoners to Paris by the 
archers. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


OX THE ROAD TO PARIS. 

On the 21st of January, 1535, a few weeks after the 
seizure of Hena Lebrenn and Ernest Rennepont at the cot¬ 
tage of Master Robert Estienne, two riders crossed the 
Charenton bridge on their way to Paris. Master Raim- 
baud, the armorer, one of the riders, was a man in robust 
middle age, and of an open and resolute countenance. His 
headgear consisted of a broad-brimmed felt hat; he wore 
a coat of mail over his jacket, and large traveling boots 
on his sturdy legs. A cutlass hung from his side, his hol¬ 
sters were furnished with pistols, and his wide brown coat 
flowed down over the crupper of his horse. The other 
rider, Odelin Lebrenn, was then just fifteen. His candid 
and pleasant features, slightly browned by the sun of Italy, 
recalled those of his sister Hena. A black bonnet, orna¬ 
mented with a little red feather and placed slightly aslant 
over the lad’s blonde hair, left wholly exposed the smiling 
face that radiated with increasing joy in the measure that 
he approached the end of his journey. The apprentice and 
his master were at that moment ascending a steep hill, at 
a steady pace. Despite the steepness of the hill, however, 
Odelin’s mount frequently broke out into a trot, surrepti- 


OV THE ROAD TO PARIS. 


305 


tiously urged thereto by the spurs of the boy. Master 
Raimbaud smiled under his brown beard, as he guessed 
the cause of Odelin’s impatience, while he himself kept his 
own horse well in hand. He had just once more baffled the 
innocent manoeuvre of his apprentice, who had run ahead: 

“Well, Odelin,” he called after him ? “there is your horse 
again breaking out into a trot. One would think he’d got 
the devil at his heels.” 

“Master Raimbaud, it is not my fault,” answered the 
youngster* somewhat abashed, and reining in, to his re¬ 
gret. “My horse forces my hand. It must be the flies that 
torment him. That’s why he runs ahead.” 

“God’s head ! Elies in the month of January, my boy!” 
replied the armorer jovially, as he came abreast of his ap¬ 
prentice. “You must be thinking yourself still in sum¬ 
mer on the roads of Milan.” 

“Well, I shall not insist on my fib, Master Raimbaud. 
I must admit to you that the nearer we approach Paris, 
where my mother, and father, and sister, and brother, and 
my good uncle Josephin are expecting me, I feel such a 
thrill of joy, that without my knowledge my spurs ap¬ 
proach the flanks of my horse—and then the beast starts 
trotting.” 

“I can understand your impatience, my lad. It does 
credit to your heart. But endeavor to control yourself a 
little. We have ridden a long stretch to-day. We should 
not wind our horses. Certain of the joy in wait for you, 
what is the use of running after it ?” 

“That’s true, Master Raimbaud,” replied Odelin, red 


306 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


with emotion and his eyes dimmed with moisture. “Within 
two hours I shall see again all those whom I love; I shall 
embrace them—” 

“And I shall add to their happiness at seeing you hack 
again, by telling them how well pleased I have been with 
you during our trip. 77 

“How could I otherwise than endeavor to please you, 
Master Raimbaud? If I were your own son you could not 
treat me with greater tenderness, or more attention. 77 

“For the simple reason that a worthy son would not be- 
have differently toward me than yourself, my little Odelin. 
Such are the fruits of the bringing up you have received 
from your worthy father and your excellent mother. 77 

“Oh, Master Raimbaud, when I think of the caresses 
that await me ! 77 

“Look to your spurs, my lad! Look to your spurs. We 
shall now soon be at the top of the hill. Stop your horse 
a moment. One of the straps of your valise is loose. Fas¬ 
ten it. 77 

“Oh, heaven! If I had lost my valise ! 77 cried the ap¬ 
prentice, reddening at the thought. Stopping his horse, he 
turned in his saddle, and hastened to fasten the strap, 
enumerating with childish glee as he did so the treasures 
contained in the bag: “Had I lost you, my dear valise, it 
w r ould then have been adieu to my little presents—the 
brooch of chiseled silver for my mother, the Quintus Cur- 
tius printed in Bologna for my good and learned father, 
a Vermillion pin for my handsome sister Hena, a bronze 


ON THE ROAD TO PARIS. 


307 


writing case, with all its accessories, for the studious 
Herve—•” 

“And that famous flask of Imola wine for vour uncle, 
the Franc-Taupin, who will be delighted to taste the Ital¬ 
ian nectar.” 

“That’s not all, Master Raimbaud; I also have for my 
uncle a fine steel Milanese dagger, which I forged myself 
at the workshop of Master Gaspard during my idle mo¬ 
ments. Oh, dear uncle, I would fear to offend him if I 
brought him a wine flask only.” 

“Come, the strap is now fast. Let us resume our way. 
Once we reach the top of the hill we shall start on a trot, 
my impatient fellow. I said a trot, did you understand? 
No galloping! We must husband the strength of our 
mounts.” 

« 

Master Raimbaud and his apprentice resumed their route 
at a rapid pace. Already they descried in the distant hori¬ 
zon the numerous spires and belfries of the churches of 
Paris. As they were passing before an isolated house on the 
road, the battered sign of which announced it as a road¬ 
side tavern, they heard someone loudly call out to them: 

“Master Raimbaud! Odelin ! Halloa ! Halloa, there!” 

“It is my uncle!” cried the lad, startled, and quickly 
making his horse rear on its haunches. “I recognize my 
uncle’s voice!” 

“He must have come out to meet us, apprized by my 
wife of the day of our arrival,” explained the armorer, 
also reining in. But looking to the right; and to the left, 
and all around him, he added, not a little surprised: 


308 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 

f 

“Where the devil may the Franc-Taupin be niched? He 
is not in heaven, I suppose, although the voice seemed to 
come from above.” 

Ho less astonished than his patron, Odelin also looked 
in all directions, when he saw, emerging from the tavern 
which they had ridden b}^, a tall Capuchin friar with his 
face almost wholly concealed in the cowl of his frock, and 
a chaplet of large beads girdling his waist. The monk 
moved with long strides towards the travelers. 

“Good God!” cried Odelin as the cowl of the monk who 
ran towards them was blown back by the wind. “My uncle 
Josephin has become a Capuchin friar!” 

“God’s head!” exclaimed the armorer, sharing the as¬ 
tonishment of his apprentice. “May the fire of my forge 
consume me if I ever expected to see such a metamorphosis ! 
The Franc-Taupin a Capuchin friar!” 

Seeing that his nephew, upon whom he kept his eyes 
fixed, was about to jump down to the ground, the soldier 
of fortune checked him with a wave of his hand, saying: 

“Remain on horseback, my boy!” 

And addressing the armorer: 

“Master Raimbaud, let us go into the tavern. It is a 
safe place, and there is a stable for your horses. We have 
matters to talk over.” 

“Halt here? No, indeed! I am in too great a hurry to 
embrace my wife. A few hours later, if you should feel 
so disposed, we may empty a pot of wine at my own house, 
my gay friend!” answered the armorer, misunderstanding 
the Franc-Taupin’s invitation. “Everything in its season. 


ON THE ROAD TO PARIS. 


309 


Business before pleasure. I wish to be back in Paris be¬ 
fore night. So, then, good-bye !” 

“Master Raimbaud, you can not enter Paris before dark 
and without great precautions/’ said the Franc-Taupin in 
a low voice. “Follow me into the tavern. You can stable 
your horses there, and I shall impart to you grave tidings, 
the saddest that you can imagine—but not a word of that 
to Odelin.” 

“Be it so! Let us go in,” answered Master Raimbaud, 
turning his horse’s head, while evil presentiments assailed 
him. Ignorant of the secret information whispered by his 
uncle to the armorer, the apprentice followed the two into 
the tavern, asking himself with increasing wonderment 
how the Franc-Taupin could have become a friar. 

Josephin pulled down over his face the cowl of his frock 
and led the two travelers to the vard of the tavern, from 
which access was had to the stable. 

“Unsaddle the horses, my friend,” said Master Raim¬ 
baud to Odelin, “and give them feed. Join us in the tav¬ 
ern when that is attended to.” 

“What, Master Raimbaud, are we to stay here when we 
are barely two hours from Paris!” 

“Mind the horses, my boy. I shall tell you afterwards 
■why we must stop here.” 

Obedient to his master’s orders, Odelin unwillingly 
alighted and threw himself upon his uncle’s neck, saying 
with a voice broken with affectionate remembrances: “My 
dear uncle! How are mother, father, sister and brother ? 
All well at home ?” 


310 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


Without answering his nephew, Josephin held him in & 
close embrace. The boy felt upon his cheeks the tears that 
flow r ed from his uncle’s eyes. 

"Uncle, you weep !” 

“With joy, my boy!” answered Josephin in a broken 
voice. "It is out of joy to see you after such a long ab¬ 
sence.” And disengaging himself from his nephew’s arms, 
he proceeded: “You will join us presently. Ask the tav¬ 
ern-keeper the way to the room in the attic facing the road.” 
then turning to the armorer: “Come, Master Eaimbaud, 
come!” 

Overjoyed at having met his uncle, and consoling him¬ 
self with the thought that, after all, the hour of seeing his 
family, so impatiently awaited, might not be greatly de¬ 
layed, Odelin busied himself with unsaddling the horses 
and furnishing them with provender. The goodhearted 
boy, thereupon, in his hurry to offer the Franc-Taupin the 
little presents he brought him from Italy, rummaged in his 
valise for the flask of Imola wine and the dagger that he 
himself forged for him. The boy was anxious to show his 
a flection to Josephin even before he was back home in 
Paris. 

The Franc-Taupin led Master Eaimbaud to a room on 
the top floor of the tavern, facing the highroad. There he 
informed the armorer of the death of Bridget and of the 
capture of Plena and Ernest Eennepont, who were since 
held imprisoned as relapsed sinners; and, finally, of Chris¬ 
tian’s departure for La Bochelle. The Franc-Taupin’s 
hopes had been verified. The presence of his brother-in- 


ON THE ROAD TO PARIS. 


311 


law at Robert Estienne’s country house was not suspected. 
The last ineffectual searches, undertaken by the archers at 
the house, sheltered him against any further visitations. 
The influence of Princess Marguerite, and the luster shed 
upon the reign of Francis I by the marvelous productions 
of Robert Estienne’s printing establishment, combined to 
save the printing master once more—alas, it was to be the 
last time!—from the hatred of his enemies. Although a 
relapsed monk and nun were found on his premises, he 
was set free and left unmolested. Accordingly, Christian 
awaited in safety the time when, healed of his wound by the 
skill of the surgeon Ambroise Pare, who visited him secret¬ 
ly, he could take his departure for La Rochelle. The casket 
containing the narratives of the Lebrenn family had been 
concealed by the Franc-Taupin with admirable foresight 
among the brush of the garden, on the very night after the 
archers seized Hena. As soon as Christian was able to 
undertake the journey, he assumed the disguise of a trav¬ 
eling seller of chaplets and relics. The religious traffic 
was essential to his safety along the road. Carrying on his 
back his pack of religious trumpery, among which his fam¬ 
ily legends were secreted, he tramped to La Rochelle, where 
he arrived safe and sound. 

Dumbfounded by these revelations, seeing the deep in¬ 
terest he harbored for Christian and his family, Master 
Raimbaud exclaimed in distraction: 

“Poor Odelin! What an unexpected blow for the un¬ 
happy boy! Only a short time ago the mere thought of 


312 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


seeing his family threw him into transports of joy—and 
now he is to learn—Oh, it is horrible!” 

“Horrible!” echoed the Franc-Taupin in sinister ac¬ 
cents. “But blood calls for blood! A soldier of adventure 
since my fifteenth year, already I had become a wolf—now 
I shall be a tiger! The reformers will draw the sword to 
avenge their martyrs—no quarter for the assassin priests! 
By my sister’s death!” proceeded the Franc-Taupin, livid 
with rage and raising his clenched fist heavenward, “call 
me a wooden-bowled cripple and a lame poltroon if I do 
not tear up the papists with my very teeth! But,” re¬ 
straining himself, he resumed: “Let us consider what now 
most presses. Master Baimbaud, here is a letter from your 
wife. I know its contents. She conjures you not to go 
back to your establishment, and to take shelter in the place 
of safety that she mentions. She will join you there in 
order to consider with you what is to be done. She is a 
cautious and resolute woman.” 

“My good Martha alarms herself unnecessarily,” ob¬ 
served the armorer after reading his wife’s letter. “How¬ 
ever violent the persecution of the reformers may be, and 
although a heretic myself, I have nothing to fear. I work 
for several seigneurs of the court; I have fashioned their 
finest arms; they will not refuse me their protection.” 

“Master Baimbaud, do the papist court jays, with the 
feathers of peacocks and the talons of vultures, owe you any 
money ?” 

“Indeed, they owe me large sums.” 


ON TEE ROAD TO PARIS. 313 

“They will burn you to cancel their debts. Make no 
doubt of that.” 

“God's head! You may be telling the truth, Josephin! 
I must consider that.” 

“Well, then, return secretly to Paris; remain in hiding 
a few days, gather all your valuables—and flee to La Ro- 
. chelle. Place yourself beyond the reach of the tigers’ 
claws. It is the best thing you can do.” 

“But what of the poor lad—Odelin?” 

“My nephew and myself will accompany you to La Ro¬ 
chelle. I scent battle and carnage in that quarter. When 
I say Tattle’ I see things red. Here is to the red! I love 
wine—I shall drink blood! Oh, blood! You shall flow 
streaming and warm from the breast of the papists, like 
wine from the bung-hole of a cask. By my sister’s death! 
Oh, for the day when I shall avenge Bridget—Hena—my 
two poor martyrs!” 

After a moment’s silent reflection the armorer blurted 
out: “My head reels under so many afflictions. I forgot 
to ask you where is Christian’s daughter, Hena ?” 

“She is a prisoner at the Chatelet. Her trial is on,” 
and burying his face in his hands the soldier of adventure 
added in heartrending tones: “She will be pronounced 
guilty, sentenced, and brought to the stake—burned alive 
as a relapsed nun.” 

“Great God, is such barbarity possible?” 

“Hena!” Josephin proceeded without answering Master 
Raimbaud, “you sweet and dear creature! Image of my 




314 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


sister! Poor child whom, when a baby, I rocked upon my 
knees—you shall be avenged—” 

The Franc-Taupin could not utter another word; he 
broke down into sobs. 

“Unhappy Christian!” exclaimed Master Raimbaud pit¬ 
ifully. “What must not have been his agony!” 

“We had to fabricate a tale before we could induce him 
to depart/’ answered the Franc-Taupin, wiping his burn¬ 
ing eye with the back of his hand. “Monsieur Estienne as¬ 
sured Christian that the Princess had obtained grace for 
Hena’s life, but under the condition that she was to spend 
her existence in some convent far away from Paris. Chris¬ 
tian then decided to flee and preserve himself for his only 
remaining child, Odelin. He is now safe at La Rochelle/’ 
“And Herve? You have not mentioned him.” 

“By my sister’s death! Do not mention the name of 
that monster. I could strangle him with my own hands, 
child of Bridget’s though he be. He has joined the Cor¬ 
delier monks. He has already preached in their church 
upon the necessity of exterminating the heretics. The 
Queen was present on the occasion. They extol the elo¬ 
quence of the young monk. Death and damnation!” Shiv¬ 
ering with horror and disgust, the Franc-Taupin proceed¬ 
ed after a pause: “Never again mention the monster’s name 
in my hearing! May hell swallow him up !” 

Uninformed upon the events that led to Herve’s taking 
orders, the armorer was no less stupefied at the news of 
the young man’s having become a monk than at hearing 
Josephin give vent to his execration of his sister’s son. 


Ok THE MAD TO PARIS. Ms 

Nevertheless, unwilling to aggravate the sorrow of the 
Franc-Taupin, he refrained from dwelling upon a sub¬ 
ject that so greatly inflamed him. 

“The tidings you have brought me have so upset me that 
it did not yet occur to me to ask you the reason for ^ r our 
assuming the garb you wear—” 

“The reason is quite simple,” Josephin broke in; “I was 
described to the spies of the Criminal Lieutenant, and 
probably informed against by the two bandits who helped 
me in the abduction of my niece ftom the convent; Mjr 
size and the plaster over my eye make me an easy mark 
for capture. I took the robe of a Capuchin mendicant be¬ 
cause it best enables me to conceal my face. These friars 
have no convent of their own in the city. A few of them 
straggle into Paris from time to time from their hives at 
Chartres or Bourges, to pick up crumbs. If any one of 
them, coming from Chartres, addresses me, I would say: 
T am from Bourges/ To those from Bourges I shall say: 
T am from Chartres/ I have been established in this tav¬ 
ern for the last three days. I told the inn-keeper that I 
expected a stranger upon business of my Order. I pay for 
my lodging regularly every morning. The inn-keeper has 
not manifested any curiosity about me. Thus, in short, 
runs the explanation of my disguise. For your own guid¬ 
ance, Master Raimbaud, I shall add that the exasperation of 
the Catholics against the reformers is just now at white 
heat. They even talk of slaughtering the Huguenots in 

mafia.” 


316 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


“What are these threats, this increased hatred, attrib¬ 
uted to?” 

“To certain printed placards clandestinely posted on the 
walls of Paris by the activity of Christian’s friend Jnstin. 
The placards scourge the priests, the monks and all other 
papists. A large number of heretics have already been ar¬ 
rested and sentenced to the stake; others have been massa¬ 
cred by the brutified populace—that huge she-greyhound, 
with bloody craw , as the monks say when they refer to the 
poor and ignorant masses. You may judge from that what 
dangers you would run in Paris, were you to attempt to 
enter the city openly, you who are pointed at as a heretic. 
My nephew Odelin runs the same danger. They are ready 
to seize him the moment he steps into your house.” 

“What! ,They want to arrest a child ?” 

“Children become men with time—and they fear men. 
I should have stabbed you to death, Ignatius Loyola, when 
I was your page! It is you who order the father and 
mother to be burned as heretics, and the three children to 
be clapped into cloisters to the end of uprooting a stock 
that you pronounce accursed! But the father has escaped 
death, and I shall know how to thwart your search after 
his last child! After that—battle and carnage! By my 
sister’s death—I shall cause the blood of papists to run 
like water. Time presses—let us make haste. You can 
not return home, Master Baimbaud, any more than my 
nephew could safely step into your house. This is the plan 
I submitted to Monsieur Robert Estienne, and which he 
approves: I have provided myself with a second Capuchin 


ON THE ROAD TO PARIS. 


317 


frock for Odelin. He and I will go to Paris, onr bags on 
onr backs, without awakening suspicion. We shall turn in 
at a friend’s on St. Honore Street, where Monsieur Estienne 
will call to see us. It is a safe place. Monsieur Estienne 
lias taken upon himself the painful task of informing 
Odelin concerning the misfortunes that have smitten his 
family. To-morrow evening we leave Paris again in our 
disguise, and I shall take my nephew to his father at La 
Rochelle. Should you also decide to change your residence, 
and to move to La Rochelle with your wife, we may agree 
upon some town near Paris in which Odelin and myself 
could join you. This is for you to consider and decide.” 

“Your plan seems wise to me, Josephin; I shall prob¬ 
ably decide to follow it. From what is happening in Paris, 
I perceive I would not be safe there.” 

“Well, then. Master Raimbaud, leave the horses behind 
in the tavern. One of your employees may come to-mor¬ 
row for them. Do not enter Paris until after dark and 
keep your head well hooded. Proceed straight to the house 
that your wife mentions to you—” 

The Franc-Taupin was interrupted in the directions he 
was issuing by the entrance of his nephew, holding in one 
hand a flask wrapped in fine paper, and in the other a steel 
dagger. He held out the two objects with a radiant face 
to Josephin, saying with exquisite kindness: 

“Dear uncle, I forged this dagger for you out of the best 
steel there was in Milan; I bring you this flask of old 
Imola wine for you to celebrate this happy day and to 
drink to the speedy reunion of our family.” 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


318 

So poignant was the contrast between the lad’s words 
and the sad reality of which he still remained in ignorance, 
that Master Raimbaud and the Franc-Taupin exchanged 
sad glances and remained silent. Josephin’s cowl, now 
resting wholly upon his shoulders, left his face entirely ex¬ 
posed. So visible were the traces of sorrow and mental 
suffering that face revealed, that Odelin, now seeing his 
uncle for the first time wholly uncovered, drew back a step. 
Immediately he also noticed the profound sadness of Mas¬ 
ter Raimbaud. Alarmed at the silence of the two, Odelin 
felt oppressed. He felt a vague presentiment of some 
great misfortune. Touched by the token of his nephew’s 
affection, the Franc-Taupin took the flask and the dagger, 
examined the weapon, placed it in his belt under his frock, 
and muttered to himself: 

“Ah, a good blade. You are given to me by the son— 
you shall wreak vengeance for the mother, the father—and 
their daughter!” He then placed the flask down beside 
him, and embracing Odelin, added aloud: “Thank you, 
my dear boy. The dagger will be useful to me. As to the 
flask—tastes change—I drink wine no more. Now to 
business. I have a note for you from your father. Post 
yourself upon its contents.” 

“But am I not to see father shortly, at home?” 

Not a little astonished, Odelin read: 

My dearly beloved Odelin.—Do everything your uncle Josephin 
may tell you, without asking any questions. Do not feel alarmed. 
I shall soon embrace you. I love you as ever, from the bottom of 
my heart. Your father, 


Chbistiah. 


ON THE ROAD TO PARIS. 


319 

Despite his vague and increasing uneasiness, Odelin 
felt quieted by those words of his father’s: “I shall soon 
embrace you.” He said to the Franc-Taupin: 

“What must I do, uncle?” 

The soldier of fortune took a bundle from his bed, 
drew out of it a Capuchin’s robe, and said to his nephew: 

“The first thing to do, my boy, is to put this robe over 
your clothes, and when we are out of doors you will take 
care to keep the cowl over your face, as I am doing now.” 

“I?” asked Odelin, startled. “Am I to put on such a 
costume?” But recalling the instructions of his father, 
he added: “I forgot that father wTote me to obey you, 
uncle, without asking any reasons for your orders. I shall 
put on the robe, immediately.” 

“Fine,” said Master Raimbaud, forcing a smile on his 
lips in order to quiet Odelin. “There you are, from an 
armorer’s apprentice transformed into a Capuchin’s ap¬ 
prentice ! The change does not seem to be to your taste, 
my little friend.” 

“It is my father’s will, Master Raimbaud. I but obey. 
Truth to say, however, I do not fancy a monk’s garb.” 

“I am a better papist than yourself, little Odelin,” put 
in the Franc-Taupin ironically, as he helped his nephew 
to don his disguise; “I love the monks so well that I hope 
soon to start bestowing upon every one of them whom I 
may meet—the red skullcap of a Cardinal! Now, shoulder 
that wallet and bend your back; and then with a dragging 
leg, and neck stuck out, we shall imitate as well as we can 
the gait of that Roman Catholic and Apostolic vermin.” 


320 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


“How comical I shall look to mother and to my sister 
Hena when they see me arrive thus accoutred!” observed 
Odelin with a smile. “Dear uncle, if father is the only one 
informed of my disguise, I shall knock at the door of our 
house, and beg for an alms with a nasal twang. Just think 
of their surprise when I throw up my cowl! Corpo di 
Bacco! as the Italians say, we shall laugh till the tears run 
down our cheeks/’ 

“Your idea is not bad,” answered the Pranc-Taupin, 
embarrassed. “But it is getting late. Bid Master Raim- 
baud good-bye, and let us depart.” 

“Is Master Raimbaud to stay here?” 

“Yes, my boy—” 

“Who is to see to the horses?” 

“Do not trouble yourself about that; they will have 
their provender.” 

The armorer embraced his apprentice, w r hom he loved 
almost as an own son and bade him be of good cheer. 

“Your adieu sounds sad, Master Raimbaud, and as if 
our separation were to be a long one,” observed Odelin 
with moistening eyes. “Uncle! Oh, uncle! My alarm 
returns, it grows upon me. I can not account for the sad¬ 
ness of Master Raimbaud, and I do not understand the 
mystery of this disguise to enter Paris—” 

“My dear boy, remember your father’s instructions,” 
said Josephin. “Put me no questions to which I can not 
now make an answer.” 

The boy resigned himself with a sigh. Shouldering his 
wallet, he descended after his uncle. As the latter heard 


ON THE ROAD TO PARIS. 


321 


the clink of Odelin's spurs on the stairs, he turned to him: 

“I forgot to make you take off your spurs. Bemove them 
while I go and pay the inn-keeper. Wait for me outside 
at the cross road.” 

“Uncle, may I put into my wallet a few little presents 
that I bring from Italy for the family?” 

“Do about that as you please,” answered the Franc- 
Taupin. 

While Odelin walked into the stable to remove his spurs 
and take out of his valise the articles which he wished to 
take with him, Josephin went to settle his score with the 
inn-keeper. The latter, who hugged his taproom, did not 
see young Odelin come down in his Capuchin vestments. 
To the Franc-Taupin he said: “You leave us early, my rev¬ 
erend. I hoped you would pay us a longer visit. But I 
can understand that you are in a hurry to reach Paris to 
witness the great ceremony.” » 

“What ceremony have you in mind, my good man?” 

“A traveler informed us that the bells and the chimes 
have been ringing in Paris with might and main since 
morning. All the houses along the road that the superb 
procession is to traverse were decorated with tapestry by 
orders of the Criminal Lieutenant, who also ordered that 
a lighted wax candle be held at every window. He also 
told us that the King, the Queen and all the Princes, as 
well as a crowd of great seigneurs and high dignitaries 
were to assist at the ceremony—the most magnificent that 
will yet have been seen—” 

“Good evening, my host,” said Josephin, anxious to put 


THE POCKET H1BLL\ 


m 

an end to the conversation and join his nephew Who Wait¬ 
ed for him outside. To himself he was saying: 

“What can the ceremony be that the inn-keeper has been 
informed about? After all, the event can only be favor¬ 
able to us. The crowds that the streets will be filled with 
will facilitate our passage, and help us to reach tinper- 
ceived the retreat designated by Monsieur Estienfie.” 

The Franc-Taupin and his nephew walked rapidly to¬ 
wards Paris where they arrived as the sun was dipping 
the western horizon. 


CHAPTER XX. 


JANUARY 21, 1535. 

January 21, 1535! Alas, that date must remain in¬ 
scribed in characters of blood in our plebeian annals, 0, 
sons of Joel! If there is justice on earth or in heaven— 
and I, Christian Lebrenn, who trace these lines, believe in 
an avenging, an expiatory justice—some day, on that dis¬ 
tant day predicted by Victoria the Great, the 21st of Jan¬ 
uary may be also a day fatal to the race of crowned execu¬ 
tioners, the princes, the nobles, and the infamous Romish 
priests. 

You are about to contemplate, 0, sons of Joel—you are 
about to contemplate the pious work of that King Francis 
I, that chivalrous King, that Very Christian King, as the 
court popinjays love to style him. A chivalrous King— 
he is false to his troth! A knightly King—he sells under 
the auctioneer’s hammer the seats on the courts of justice 
and in the tribunals of religion! A very Christian King 
—he wallows in the filthiest of debauches! In order to 
impart a flavor of incest to adultery, he shares with one 
of his own sons, the husband of Catherine De Medici, the 
bed of the Duchess of Etampes. Finally, he expires taint¬ 
ed with a loathsome disease after ten years of frightful 


324 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


sufferings! At this season, however, the miscreant is still 
in full health, and is engaged in honoring G-od, his saints 
and his Church with a human holocaust. Hypocrisy and 
ferocity! 

A magnificent solemnity w r as that day to be the object 
of edification to all the good Catholics of Paris, as the inn¬ 
keeper announced to the Franc-Taupin. Eead, 0 sons of 
Joel, the ordinance posted in Paris by order of the Very 
Christian King Francis I: 

\ i • 

On Thursday the 21st day of January, 1535, a solemn pro¬ 
cession will take place in the honor of God our Greater, of the 
glorious Virgin Mary, and of all the blessed Saints in Paradise. 
Our Seigneur, King Francis I, has been informed of the errors 
that are rife in these days, and of the placards and heretical 
books that are posted or scattered around the streets and thor¬ 
oughfares of Paris by the vicious sectarians of Luther, and other 
blasphemers of the sacred Sacrament of the altar, the which ac¬ 
cursed scum of society aims at the destruction of our Catholic 
faith and of the constitutions of our mother, the Holy Church 
of God. 

Therefore, our said Seigneur Francis I has held a Council, 
and, in order to repair the injury done to God, has decided to 
order a general procession, the same to close with the torture 
and execution of several heretics. At the head of the procession 
shall be carried the sacred Eucharist and the most precious relics 
of the city of Paris. 

First, on the 17th day of the said month of January, procla¬ 
mation shall be made to the sound of trumpets, throughout the 
thoroughfares of Paris, ordering that the streets through which 
the said procession is to pass shall be swept clean, and all the 
houses ornamented with beautiful tapestry. The owners of the 
said houses shall stand before their doors, bare-headed and holding 
a lighted taper in their hands.— Item, on the Wednesday follow¬ 
ing, the 20th of the said month, the principals of all the Uni- 


JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 


325 


versities of Paris shall meet and orders shall be issued to them 
to cause the students of the said Colleges to be locked up, with 
the express injunction that the same shall not be allowed outside 
until the procession shall have passed, in order to obviate con¬ 
fusion and tumult. Furthermore the students shall fast on the 
eve and the day of the procession.— Item, provosts of the mer' 
chant guilds and the aldermen of the city of Paris shall cause 
barriers to be raised at the crossing of the streets through which 
the said procession is to pass, in order to prevent the people from 
crossing the lines of the marchers. Two soldiers and two archers 
shall be placed in charge of each one of the said barriers.— Item. 
halting places shall be erected in the middle of St. Denis and 
St. Honors Streets, at the Cross-of-Trahoir, and at the further 
end of the Notre Dame Bridge, the latter of which shall be 
decorated with a gilded lanthorn, historical paintings of the holy 
Sacrament, and a dais of evergreen from which shall hang a 
number of crowns, and bannerets bearing the following sacred 
device: Ipsi peribunt, tu autem permanebis (They shall per¬ 
ish, hut you, Holy Mother Church, shall remain forever). 

The same device shall be inscribed on the cards attached to 
the swarm of little birds that are to be set free along the pas¬ 
sage of the said procession. 1 

The program of the ceremony was followed out point by 
point. The Franc-Taupin and Odelin entered Paris by 
the Gate of the Bastille of St. Antoine. They were wrap¬ 
ped in their Capuchin hoods, and took the route of St. 
Honore Street. That thoroughfare was lighted by the 
tapers which, obedient to the royal decree, the household¬ 
ers held at the doors of their dwellings. Lavish tapestries, 
hangings and rich cloths ornamented with greens car¬ 
peted the walls of the houses from top to bottom. Men, 

1 History of the Town of Parte, Registers of the Town Hall of 

by Dom Felibien, of the congre- Paris, and the Registers of the 

gation of St. Maur; Paris, 1725, Parliaments, folios 507-686. 
vol. V, p. 343. Also given in the 



32ft 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


women and children crowded the windows. A lively 
stream of people moved about gaily, loudly admiring the 
splendors of the feast. Arrived near the Arcade of Es- 
chappes, which ran into St. Honore Street, the Franc- 
Taupin and Odelin were forced to halt until the proces¬ 
sion had passed before they could cross the street. All the 
crossings were closed with barriers and guarded by sol¬ 
diers and archers. 

Thanks to the respect that their monastic garb inspired, 
Josephin and his nephew were allowed to clear the barrier 
which separated them from the first ranks of the pro¬ 
cession, and finally to fall in line with the same. 

Romish idolatry and royal pride exhibited themselves in 
the midst of the pomp and circumstance of the occasion. 
King, Queen, Princes, Princesses, Cardinals, Archbishops, 
Marshals, courtiers, ladies in waiting, high dignitaries of 
the courts of justice, magistrates, consuls, bourgeois, guilds 
of artisans—all were about to batten upon the torture and 
death of the heretics, whose only crime consisted in the 
practice of the Evangelical doctrine in its pristine purity. 

Read, 0, sons of Joel, the narrative of this execrable 
ceremony, transmitted by a spectator, an ardent Catholic 
and fervent royalist, Dom Felibien. Preserve the pages 
in our family annals, they are the irrefutable witnesses of 
the religious fanaticism of those days of ignorance, under 
clerical domination and monarchic despotism. Dom 
Felibien says: 

“At the head of the procession marched the Swiss of 


V 


JANUARY 21, 1535. ' 327 

the King’s guard. They preceded the Queen, who was 
richly attired in a robe of black velvet lined with lynx skin. 
She rode a white palfrey with housings of frizzled gold 
cloth, and was accompanied by mesdames the King’s daugh¬ 
ters, likewise richly accoutred in robes of crimson satin 
embroidered with gold thread, and riding beautiful and 
splendidly caparisoned palfreys. Many other dames and 
princesses, besides a troop of knights, seneschals and palace 
dignitaries on horseback, pages, lackeys and Swiss Guards 
on foot marched beside the Queen. 

“After her came the Cordelier 'monks in large numbers, 
carrying many relics, each holding a little lighted taper 
with profound devotion. 

“After these came the preaching Jacobin friars, also 
carrying many relics. Each bore a chaplet of Notre Dame, 
and all were devoutly engaged in prayer to God. 

“After these, the Augustinian monks, marching in sim¬ 
ilar order, and also carrying many relics. 

“After these, the Carmelites, in the same order, and, 
in their wake all the parish priests of the city of Paris, 
each with his cross, robed in their capes, and carrying relics 
surrounded with numerous tapers. 

“After these, the collegiates of the churches, carrying 
many relics and holy bodies, the latter surrounded by 
many tapers. 

“After these, the Mathurins, dressed all in white. They 
marched devoutly wrapped in prayer and holding tapers. 

“After these, the friars of St. Magloire carrying the 
shrine of Monsieur St, Magloire. 


328 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


“After these, the friars of St. Germain-des-Prez,, carry¬ 
ing the shrine of Monsieur St. Germain-le-Vieil, who, as 
far back as man’s memory went, had never before been 
known to leave the precincts of St. Germain. To the right 
of the holy body, the said friars, each with a lighted white 
wax candle; to the left, the friars of St. Martin-of-the- 
Fields, carrying the shrine of St. Paxant, a martyr. The 
two shrines abreast and beside each other. 

“After these the relics of Monsieur St. Eloi in, the 
shrine of the said Saint, carried by locksmiths, each wear¬ 
ing a hat of flowers. 

“After these, Monsieur St. Benoit, with other shrines 
containing the bodies of Saints belonging to the said city. 

“After that, a huge relic of solid gold and inestimable 
value, studded with precious stones and enclosing the 
bones of several Saints, the whole carried on the shoulders 
of sixteen bourgeois of the city of Paris. Beside this relic 
was to be seen that of the great St. Philip, an exquisite 
coffer from Notre Dame of Paris. 

“After these, came in beautiful order the shrines of 
Madam St. Genevieve, carried by eighteen men, naked 
(except for their shirts), with hats of flowers on their 
heads, and by four monks, also in their shirts, with bare 
legs and feet. Then the shrine of Monsieur St. Martel, 
reverently carried by the goldsmiths, dressed in dress of 
state. That shrine also had not in the memory of man 
been carried beyond the bridge of Notre Dame. In order 
to secure the safe and orderly carriage of these shrines 
through the large concourse of people, all of whom were 


JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 


329 


curious to see and draw near them, a number of archers 
and other officers were detailed to escort the same. 

“After these, the monks of St. Genevieve and St. Victor, 
barefooted, each holding a lighted taper and praying to 
God with great devotion. 

“After these, the canons and priests of St. Germain-of- 
Auxerre, chanting canticles of praise put to music. 

“After these, the secular doctors and regulars of the 
four faculties of the University of Paris. The rector and 
his beadles, the latter carrying before him their maces of 
gold and silver. 

“After these, the doctors of theology and medicine in 
large numbers dressed in their sacerdotal and other garbs, 
each holding a lighted wax candle. 

“After these came, marching in beautiful order on both 
sides of the street, the Swiss Guards of the King, dressed 
in the velvet of his livery, each armed with his halberd. 
The fifers and war drummers marched two by two at the 
head of the said Swiss Guards, beating upon their drums 
and blowing their fifes in funeral notes. 

“After these, the hautboys, trumpets, cornet and clarion 
players, all in the King’s livery, and melodiously intoning 
the beautiful hymn Pange, lingua, gloriosi corporis mys- 
terium, etc., which is the hymn of the holy Sacrament, and 
which moved all the bystanders to tears, such was its 
power. 

“After these, Monsieur Savigny, one of the captains 
of the King’s guards, establishing order and preventing 
tumult during the procession, 


330 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


“After him, came the King’s heralds-at-arms, clad in 
their jackets of silver cloth. 

“After them, the choristers of the same Seigneur, those 
attached to the domestic service as well as those attached 
to the holy chapel of the palace. They marched together, 
singing: 0 salutaris Hostia , and other beautiful anthems. 

“After these, ten priests robed in chasubles, their heads 
bare, and carrying the relic of Monsieur St. Louis, once 
King of France, encased and studded with quantities of 
precious stones of inestimable value. 

“After these, the holy and precious relic of the holy 
crown of thorns of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, 
an inestimable relic which, as far back as the memory of 
man runs, was never before carried in any procession what¬ 
ever, and caused the hair to stand on end of all those who 
saw it, and rendered them charmed with God, as they 
considered His blessed passion. 

“After this, the true cross on which our Lord Jesus 
Christ was crucified. It was taken from the Holy Chapel, 
besides mother piece of the said true cross from Notre 
Dame of Paris. 

“After that the rod of Aaron, an old relic; the holy 
iron of the lance wherewith Longus pierced the precious 
side of our Savior Jesus Christ; one of the holy nails 
with which He was nailed to the cross; the sponge, the 
carcan, the chain with which our Lord was fastened to 
the pillar; His immaculate robe; the sheet in which He 
was wrapped in the tomb as in a winding-cloth; the 
napkins of His babyhood; the reed stuck into His hand 


JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 


331 


when He was crewned with thorns; the table of stonei 
which the children of Israel hewed in the desert; a drop 
of the precious blood of our Lord Jesus; finally a drop 
of milk of the glorious Virgin Mary, Mother of God. The 
which beautiful relics, all taken from the treasury of the 
Holy Chapel, were accompanied and carried by ten arch¬ 
bishops and bishops dressed in their pontifical vestments, 
and marching two by two. 

“After these, the ambassadors from the Emperor, from 
the King of England, from Venice, and other potentates 
and seigneurs. 

“ A fter these, and marching abreast, the Cardinals of 
Tournon, Veneur and Givry; the Bishop of Soissons; and 
Monsieur Gabriel of Saluces, carrying a beautiful relic of 
a cross studded with several precious stones. 

“After these, Knights with their battle-axes escorting 
the precious and sacred body of our Lord Jesus Christ at 
the sacrament of the altar, which was carried bv Monsieur 
the Bishop of Paris on a cross under a canopy of 
crimson velvet spangled with gold fleur-de-lis, the canopy 
being borne aloft by our Seigneurs, the King’s sons, to 
wit, Monsieur the Dauphin, Monsieur of Orleans, Mon¬ 
sieur of Angouleme, and Monsieur of Vendosme, all the 
said Princes bareheaded, and clad in robes of black velvet 
with heavy gold borders and lined with white satin ? and 
near them several counts and barons to relieve them. 

“After these, came the King our Sire, bareheaded, in 
great reverence. He was clad in a robe of black velvet 
lined with black silk, girded with a girdle of taffeta, and 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


332 

in his hand a large white wax candle. furnished with a 
holder of crimson velvet. Beside him, the Cardinal of 
Lorraine, to whom, every time the holy sacrament rested 
at the halting places, the said Seigneur our King passed 
the wax candle, while he himself made his prayers with his 
hands joined. Seeing the which, there was none among 
the spectators, whether grown or little, who did not weep 
warm tears, and who did not pray to God for the King 
whom the said people saw in such great devotion, and per¬ 
forming so devout an act and so worthy of remembrance 
for all time. And it may well be presumed that neither 
Jew nor infidel present, seeing the example of the King 
and his good people, failed of being converted to the Cath¬ 
olic faith. 

“After these, the parliaments, with the ushers walking 
before, each with a staff in his hands; the four notaries; 
the clerks of the criminal courts, dressed in scarlet gowns 
and wearing their furred hats; messieurs the presidents 
with their mantles over their shoulders and their mortars 
on their heads; the chiefs of departments, and the coun¬ 
sellors, in red robes. 

“After these, the Chief Justices, and heads of the treas¬ 
ury and the mint; the comptrollers of the city of Paris, 
each with a lighted white wax candle in his hand, and 
clad in their parti-colored robes of red and blue, the city 
colors. 

“Finally, the archers, the cross-bowmen, and the arque- 


JANUARY, 21, 1535. 333 

busiers of Paris, dressed in their uniforms, and each hold¬ 
ing a wax candle.” 1 

Such was that great Catholic procession! 

The procession wound its way through St. Honore, 
St. Denis and St. James-of-the-Slaughterhouse Streets, 
and then crossed the Notre-Dame Bridge. 

Cages full of birds were opened, and the little feathered 
brood flew from their prisons with open wings. The pro¬ 
cession deployed on the square before the parvise of the 
Cathedral of Notre Dame. All the surrounding houses, 
tapestried from top to bottom, were lined with spectators 
at the windows, on the cornices, the shafts of pillars and 
the roofs. As they stood waiting for the procession to go 
by near the Arcade of Eschappes, the Franc-Taupin and 
his nephew caught sight of Herve among the Cordelier 
monks, whose garb he wore. 

“My brother!” cried Odelin, making to rush forward 
towards Herve and embrace him. “There is my brother!” 

But Josephin seized his nephew by the arm, and whis¬ 
pered to him: 

“My boy, if a single move made by you draws attention 
upon us, we shall be discovered and arrested.” 

Odelin’s exclamation, being drowned by the psalmody 
of the Cordeliers, did not reach the ears of HervA The 
latter did not even notice his brother, whose face was par¬ 
tially covered by his cowl. The Cordeliers passed by, then 

1 Dom Felibien, History of the and following; Registers of the 
Town of Paris, vol. V. pp. 343- Town Hall of Paris, etc. 

347 ; French Ceremonial, pp. 040 



334 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


the Augustinians, the Carmelites, the Dominicans, the 
Genevievians, the Jacobins, and many other monks of dif¬ 
ferently shaped and colored garbs. Josephin sought to 
place the greatest distance possible between himself and 
Herve. He fell in line with the Mathurins, who brought 
up the rear of the division of monks. 

Odelin began to feel disturbed in mind. The events in 
which he had already that day participated, his apprehen¬ 
sions regarding his family, the sight of his brother in the 
habits of a Cordelier monk, the preparations for the tor¬ 
ture and death of the heretics, a spectacle that he now saw 
himself forced to witness—everything combined to harass 
his mind with perplexities. At times Odelin imagined 
himself under the obsession of a nightmare. His uncer¬ 
tain and almost stumbling step was noticed by the Su¬ 
perior of the Mathurins, who expressed his surprise thereat 
to Josephin. The Franc-Taupin merely answered that 
this was the first time the novice attended an execution of 
heretics. 

The procession having arrived before the parvise of 
Notre Dame, each division of which it was composed took 
the place assigned to it. A stage, covered with rich tent- 
cloth was prepared for King Francis I, the Queen, the 
Princes and Princesses of the royal family, the court 
ladies, the Cardinals, the Archbishops, the Marshals, the 
presidents of the parliaments, and the principal courtiers. 
The pyre faced the royal platform at a convenient dis¬ 
tance, in order that the noble assemblage be annoyed neith¬ 
er by the heat nor smoke of the fire, and yet could follow 



JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 


335 


closely the cruel details of the tragedy. The pyre con¬ 
sisted of a heap of fagots from fifteen to twenty feet long, 
and about six or seven feet high. Close to the pyre rose 
six machines. Each consisted of a perpendicular beam, 
the bottom driven into the earth and the top furnished with 
an iron clamp in the socket of which a cross-beam was at¬ 
tached. This beam could be made to tip forward over the 
fagots. At the forward extremity of the cross-beam, and 
hanging from chains, was an iron chair provided with a 
back and foot-board after the fashion of a swing. To the 
rear extremity of the cross-beam ropes and pulleys were 
attached, holding it down to the ground. 

The Franc-Taupin contemplated with horror those im¬ 
plements of torture, while he gave his support to poor 
Odelin, who shook convulsively. The Superior of the 
Mathurins, who happened to stand near Josephin, ad¬ 
dressed him with a smile: 

“Perhaps you do not understand the value of those ma¬ 
chines which we shall shortly see put into operation ?” 

“No, dear brother, you are right. I have no idea of what 
those machines are for in this affair.” 

“They are an invention due to the genius of our Sire 
the King, to whom the men put to the torture for coining 
false money already owe the rack on which they are exe¬ 
cuted. 1 To-day the application of these new machines, 
which you are contemplating with so much interest, is in¬ 
augurated in our good city of Paris. The process is very 
simple, besides ingenious. When the pyre is well aflame, 


1 De Thou, History of France , book I, p. 271. 



m 


TEE POOREST BIBLE. 


the patient is chained fast to the chair which you see there, 
dangling from the end of that cross-beam; then, the beam 
acting as a lever, he is, by slacking and pulling in the 
ropes at the other end, alternately sunk down into the 
flames and pulled out again, to be re-plunged, and so on^ 
until, after being plunged and replunged, death ensues. 
Do you now understand the process?” 

“Clearly, my reverend. Death by fire, as formerly prac¬ 
ticed, put too speedy an end to the patient’s torture.” 

“Altogether too speedy. A few minutes of torture and 
all was over, and the heretic breathed his last breath—” 

“And now,” broke in the Franc-Taupin, “thanks to this 
royal invention by our Sire Francis I, whom may God 
guard, the patient is afforded leisure to burn slowly—he 
can relish the fagot and inhale the flame! How superb 
and meritorious an invention!” 

“It is that, my dear brother! Your expressions are cor¬ 
rect—quite so —relish the fagot —inhale the flame. It is 
calculated that the agony of the patients will now last from 
twenty to thirty minutes. 

“There are to-night three such pyres raised in Paris,” 
the Superior of the Mathurins proceeded to explain. “The 
one before us, a second at the market place, and the third 
at the Cross-of-Trahoir. After our good Sire shall have 
assisted at the executions in this place, he will be able to 
visit the two others on his way back to the Louvre .” 1 

1 These monstrosities seem to culprits were taken to the parvise 
exceed the boundaries of the pos- of Notre Dame, where the fires 
slble. Let us quote literally the were prepared to burn them, 
text of the historians: Above the pyres rose a sort of 

“On the evening of the same scaffolding on which the patients 
day (January 21, 1535) the six were tied fast. The fire was then 



337 


January 21 , 1535 . 


The colloquy with the monk was interrupted by a great 
noise. From mouth to mouth ran the word: “Silence! 


Silence ! The King wishes to speak 

During the Franc-Taupin’s conversation with the Ma- 
thurin, the King, his family, the court, the high digni¬ 
taries of the Church and of the kingdom had taken their 
seats on the platform. Anne of Pisseleu, Duchess of 
Etampes, who shared her favors between Francis I and his 
eldest son, drew the eyes of the multitude upon herself 
with the costliness of her apparel, which was as dazzling 
as her beauty, then at its prime. The royal courtesan cast 
from time to time a look of superb triumph upon her two 
rivals—the Queen of France, and Catherine De Medici, 
the wife of Henry, the King’s son. The young Princess, 


at that season barely sixteen years of age, born in Flor¬ 
ence, the daughter of Laurent De Medici and niece of 
Pope Clement VII, presented a perfect type of Italian 
beauty. Pale with chestnut hair, and white of skin, her 
black, passionate and crafty eyes frequently lingered sur¬ 
reptitiously with an expression of suppressed hatred upon 


lighted under them, and the ex¬ 
ecutioners, gently slacking the 
rope of the lever, allowed the 
miscreants to dip down to the 
level of the flames, in order that 
they be caused to feel the sharp¬ 
est smart; they were then raised 
up again, kept hanging ablaze in 
midair, and, after having been 
several times put through that 
painful torment, they were 
dropped into the flames where 
they expired.” ( History of France 
by Father Daniel of the Society 
of Jesus, vol. IV, page 41, Paris, 
1751.) 

“On the said day (January 21, 
1535) in the presence of the 
King, the Queen and all the 
court, and after the aforesaid 


remonstrances, the six heretics 
were brought forward to make 
the amende honorable before the 
church of Notre Dame of Paris, 
and immediately after they were 
burned alive.” ( Acts and Deeds 
of the Kings of France and Eng¬ 
land, by Jean Bouchet. Poitiers, 
1557, in-folio, pp. 271-272.) 

“In order to purge their sin, 
the said heretics were burned to 
death on the said day (January 
21, 1535) at several places, as 
the King passed by, while in vain 
the poor sufferers cried and im¬ 
plored him for mercy.” I History 
of the State of Religion, by Jean 
Sleidan. 1557, vol. IX, p. 137). 
(Quotations from Catholic 
works.) 




338 


TEE POCKET BIBLE. 


the Duchess of Etampes. Whenever their eyes met acci¬ 
dentally, Catherine De Medici had for her a charming 
smile. Conspicuous among the great seigneurs seated on 
the platform were the Constable of Montmorency, Duke 
Claude of Guise and his brother Cardinal John of Lor¬ 
raine, the crapulous, dissolute Prince immortalized by 
Rabelais under the name of “Panurge.” These Guises— 
Princes of Lorraine, ambitious, greedy, haughty and turb¬ 
ulent—W'hom Francis 1 at once flattered and curbed, in¬ 
spired him with so much apprehension that he was wont 
to allude to them in his conversations with the Dauphin in 
these words: “Be on your guard; I shall leave you clothed 
in a coat, they will leave you in your shirt.” In close prox¬ 
imity to the Guises stood John Lefevre, the disciple of 
Ignatius Loyola, chatting with great familiarity with Car¬ 
dinal Duprat. Already the Jesuits had gained a footing 
at the court of Francis I; they dominated the Chancellor, 
the evil genius of that King. And what was that sovereign, 
physically and morally? Here is his picture, as left by 
the writers of his time: “Six feet high; broad-shouldered, 
wide of girth, round faced, fat, ruddy of complexion, with 
short cropped hair, long beard, and a prominent nose”— 
features that betray sensual appetites. The Sire walked 
towards his throne, swaying to right and left. The heavy 
colossus affected the gait and postures of a gladiator. He 
sat down, or rather dropped into his seat. All present on 
the platform rose to their feet with heads uncovered, the 
women excepted. He addressed himself to the Princes, 

l 

I 


JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 


339 


the Princesses of his family, and the dignitaries of the 
Church and the kingdom: 

“It will not seem strange to you, messieurs, if you do not 
find in me the mien, the countenance and the words, which 
I have been in the habit of being seen in and of using on 
previous occasions when I called you together. To-day, I 
do not address you as a King and Master addresses his sub¬ 
jects and servitors. I speak as being myself the subject and 
servitor of the King of Kings, of the Master of Masters— 
the All-powerful God. 

“Some wicked blasphemers, people of little note and of 
less doctrine, have, contrary to the honor of the holy Sac¬ 
rament, machinated, said, proffered and written many great 
blasphemies. On account thereof I have willed that this 
solemn procession be held, in order to invoke the grace of 
our Kedeemer. I order that rigorous punishment be in¬ 
flicted upon the heretics, as a warning to all others not 
to fall into the said damnable opinions, while admonish¬ 
ing the faithful to persevere in their doctrines, the waver¬ 
ing to become firm, and those who have strayed away 
to return to the path of the holy Catholic faith, in which 
they see me persevere, together with the spiritual prelates. 

“Therefore, messieurs, I entreat and admonish you—let 
all my subjects keep watch and guard, not only over them¬ 
selves, but also over their families, and especially over their 
children, and cause these to be so properly instructed that 
they may not fall into evil doctrines. I also order that each 
and all shall denounce whomsoever they may happen to 
know, or to suspect, of being adherents to the heresy, with- 


340 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


out regard to any bonds, whether of family or of friend¬ 
ship. As to myself/’ added Francis I in a thundering 
voice, “on the same principle that, had I an arm infected 
with putrefaction, I w r ould cause it to be separated from 
my body, so if ever, should it unhappily so befall, any child 
of mine relapse into the said damnable heresies, I 
shall be ready to immolate, and to deliver him as a sacri¬ 
fice to God.” 1 

The discourse of Francis I was listened to amid religious 
silence, and applauded enthusiastically. 

The prostituted pack of clergymen, courtiers and war¬ 
riors who surrounded the Very Christian King knew the 
trick how to inherit the property of heretics. To burn or 
massacre the reformers was to coin money for the royal 
pack, the sovereign having the right to transmit to the 
.good Catholics the wealth confiscated from condemned he¬ 
retics. But, to kill the heretics, to torture them, to burn 
them alive, that did not satisfy the pious monarch. Hu¬ 
man thought was to be shackled. The sovereign proceeded 
with his allocution: 

“It is notorious that the pestilence of heresy spreads in 
all directions with the aid of the printing press. My Chan¬ 
cellor shall now read a decree issued by me abolishing the 
printing press in my estates under pain of death.” 

The Chancellor, Cardinal Duprat, read in a loud voice 
the decree of that Father of Letters , as the court popinjays 
styled Francis I with egregious adulation: 

1 Exhortation of the King of Jean Bouchet, Toitiers, 1557, in- 
Prance against the Heretics, folio, p. 272. 



341 




JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 

“We, Francis I, by the grace of God, King of France.—It is 
our will, and we so order, and it pleases us.to prohibit and forbid 
all printers in general, and of whatever rank and condition they 
may be, to print anything, under pain of hanging. 

“Such is our good pleasure. Francis.” 1 


Come! One more effort; listen to the end of this tale, 
0, sons of Joel. My hand trembles as I trace these lines, 
my eyes are veiled in tears, my heart bleeds. But I must 
proceed with my story. 

After the reading of the edict which prohibited the 
printing press in France under pain of death, the Criminal 
Lieutenant stepped forward to receive the orders of the 
Chancellor. He turned to the King, and the King com¬ 
manded that the heretics be put to the torture and death 
without further delay. The gallant chat among the cour¬ 
tiers was hushed, and the eyes of the royal assembly turned 
towards the pyre. 

The Franc-Taupin and Odelin stood in the midst of the 
Mathurins, close to the spot of execution. Not far from 
them were ranked the Cordeliers. Standing between Fra 
Girard and the Superior General of his Order, Herve 
seemed to be the object of the dignitary’s special solicitude. 
Both the sons of Christian Lebrenn were about to witness 
the execution. Their sister Hena, sentenced together with 
Ernest Eennepont to the flames as a relapsed and sacrileg¬ 
ious heretic, was to figure, along with her bridegroom, 

1 On the subject of this decree, by M. Taillandier.—Cited In the 
which was later forcibly annulled. introduction to the History of the 
see Extracts of the Registers of Printing Press in Paris, Memoirs 
the Parliament of Paris, LXXVI. of the Society of Antiquaries, vo}. 
folio 113, collated and extracted XII. 


/ 



342 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


among the victims. The frightful spectacle passed before 
the eyes of Odelin like a vision of death. Without making 
a single motion, without experiencing a shiver, without 
dropping a tear, petrified with terror, the lad gazed—like 
him, who, a prey to some stupefying dream, remains mo¬ 
tionless, stretched upon his bed. It was a horrible night¬ 
mare! 

The order to proceed having gone from Francis I and 
been transmitted to the Mathurin monks, several of these 
proceeded to the portico of the Basilica of Notre Dame, 
whither the culprits had first been taken to make the 
amende honorable on their knees before the church. One 
of the patients had his tongue cut out for preferring 
charges against the Catholic clergy on his way from prison 
to the parvisc. 1 The Mathurins led the victims in pro¬ 
cession to the pyre. As they approached, all the religious 
Orders intoned in a sonorous voice the funeral psalmody— 
De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine! 

The heretics, to the number of six, marched two by two, 
bareheaded and barefooted, holding lighted tapers in their 
hands. John Dubourg and his friend Etienne Laforge 
led; behind them came St. Ernest-Martyr supporting the 
architect Poille. The wretched man had his tongue cut 
out. Blood streamed from his mouth, and dyed his long 
white shirt red. Mary La Catelle and Hena, called in re¬ 
ligion Sister St. Erances-in-the-Tomb, came next. Their 
feet were bare, their hair hung down loose upon their shoul- 

1 It was no infrequent occur- aloud the Evangelical doctrine as 
rence to cause the tongues of they marched to the stake.—See 
heretics to be cut out, in order the following citation, from The- 
to prevent them from confessing odore of Beze. 




343 


JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 

ders. They were clad in long white shifts held at the waist 
with a cord. Hena pressed against her heart a little pocket 
Bible which Christian had printed in the establishment of 
Robert Estienne, and which she was allowed to keep. It 
was a cherished volume from which the Lebrenn family 
often read together of an evening, and which recalled to 
Hena a whole world of sweet remembrances. 

Herve recognized his sister among the condemned he¬ 
retics. A thrill ran through his frame, a deadly pallor 
overcast his countenance, and, turning his face away, he 
leaned for support on the arm of Fra Girard. The execu¬ 
tioners had set fire to the fagots, which soon presented the 
sight of a sheet of roaring flames. As the prisoners arrived 
at the place of their torture and death, and caught sight of 
the seats swaying over the lambent flames, they readily 
surmised the cruel torments to which they were destined. 
In her terror, poor Hena began to emit heartrending cries, 
and she clung to the arm of Mary La Catelle. The taper 
and the little pocket Bible which she held rolled to the 
ground. The holy book fell upon a burning ember and 
began to blaze. One of the executioners stamped out the 
fire with his heels and threw the book aside. It fell near 
the Franc-Taupin. Josephin stooped down quickly, picked 
up the precious token and dropped it into the pocket of 
his wide frock. Petrified with terror, Odelin only gazed 
into space. The frightful cries of his sister were hardly 
heard by him, drowned as they were by the buzz and throb 
of the arteries in his own temples. The executioners were 
at work. Hena and the other five martyrs were seized. 


344 


THE POCKET BIBLE. 


placed in their respective seats, and chained fast. All the 
six levers were then set in motion at once, and dipped over 
the tire. It was a spectacle, an atrocious spectacle—well 
worthy of a King! The victims were plunged into the 
furnace, then raised up high in the air with clothes and 
hair ablaze, to be again swallowed up in the flaming abyss, 
again to be raised out of it, in order once more to be pre¬ 
cipitated into its fiery embrace! 1 

Odelin still gazed, motionless, his arms crossed over his 
breast, and rigid as if in a state of catalepsy. The Franc- 
Taupin looked at his unhappy niece Hena every time the 
lever raised her in the air, and also every time it hurl'ed 
her down into the abyss of flames. He counted the plung¬ 
ing s, as the Superior of the Mathurins humorously called 
them. He counted tw r enty-five of them. At the first few 
descents poor Hena twisted and writhed in her seat while 
emitting piercing cries; in the course of a few subsequent 


descents the cries subsided into moans; when she disap¬ 
peared in the burning crater for the sixteenth time she 
was heard to moan no more. She was either expiring or 
dead. The machine continued to dip twenty-five times—it 
was only a blackened, half naked corpse, the head of which 
hung loose and beat against the back of the seat. The 


Franc-Taupin followed also with his eyes Ernest Renne- 
pont, who was placed face to face with Hena. The un- 


1 “Among those burnt at Paris 
that day, January 21, 1535, 

were: John Dubourg, a merchant- 
draper of Paris, living in St. 
Denis Street, at the sign of the 
Black Horse ; Etienne Laforge, of 
Tournay, but long an inhabitant 
of Paris, a man very rich and 
very charitable; a schoolmistress 
named Mary La Catelle ; and An¬ 


thony Poille, an architect former¬ 
ly of Meaux, and blessed of God 
in that he carried off the palm 
among the martyrs, for having 
been the most cruelly treated. He 
had his tongue cut out, as more 
fully it is set forth in the book 
of the martyrs .”—Ecclesiastical 
Chronicles, Theodore of Beze, vol. 
I, P. 1. 




JANUARY 21 , 1535 . 


345 


happy youth did not emit a single cry during his torment, 
he did not even utter a wail. His eyes remained fixed 
upon his bride. Etienne Laforge, John Dubourg and Mary 
La Catelle gave proof of the sublimest courage. They were 
heard singing psalms amidst the flames that devoured them. 
Of these latter, only Anthony Poille, whose tongue had been 
cut out, was silent. The death rattle finally silenced the 
voice of the heretics. It was but charred corpses that the 
executioners were raising and dropping. 

When the frightful vision ceased, Odelin dropped to the 
ground, a prey to violent convulsions. Two monks helped 
the Franc-Taupin carry the young novice into a neigh¬ 
boring house. But before leaving the spot of Hena’s tor¬ 
ture and death, Josephin stopped an instant before the 
brazier which was finishing the work of consuming the 
corpses. There the Franc-Taupin pronounced the follow¬ 
ing silent imprecation: 

“Hate and execration for the papist executioners, Kings, 
priests and monks! War, implacable war upon this in¬ 
famous religion that tortures and burns to death those who 
are refractory to its creed! Reprisals and vengeance ! By 
my sister’s death; by the agony of her daughter, plunged 
twenty-five times into the fiery furnace—I swear to put 
twenty-five papist priests to death !” 

After Odelin recovered consciousness, uncle and nephew 
resumed their way to the place of refuge on St. Honore 
Street, where Robert Estienne was found waiting for them. 
The generous friend was proscribed. The next day he 


346 


THE POCKET BIBLE . 


was to wander into exile to Geneva. It was with great 
difficulty that Princess Marguerite had obtained grace for 
his life. He informed Odelin of his father’s flight to La 
Rochelle and of Bridget’s death. He pressed upon Jo- 
sephin the necessity of leaving Paris with Odelin and pro¬ 
ceeding on the spot to La Rochelle, lest he fall into the 
clutches of the police spies wdio were on the search for 
them. At the same time he placed in Josephin’s hands 
the necessary funds for the journey, and took charge of 
notifying Master Raimbaud should he also be willing to 
take refuge in La Rochelle. 

It was agreed between the three that the Franc-Taupin 
and his nephew would wait two days for Master Raimbaud 
at Etampes. The directions of Robert Estienne w r ere in¬ 
stantly put into execution. That same night Odelin and 
Josephin left Paris, and reached Etampes without diffi¬ 
culty, thanks to the monastic garb which cleared the way 
for them. At Etampes Master Raimbaud and his wife 
joined them before the expiration of the second day, and 
the four immediately took the road to La Rochelle, where 
they arrived on February 17, 1535. The four fugitives 
inquired for the dwelling of Christian Lebrenn. His fam¬ 
ily, alas! was now reduced to three members—father, son 
and the brave Josephin. The Franc-Taupin delivered to 
his brother-in-law the pocket Bible which he picked up 
near the pyre, the tomb of Hena—that Bible is now added 
to the relics of the Lebrenn family. 


END OF VOLUME ONE. 





One copy del. to Cat, Div. 
J U L 14 Ki»t 






























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































